


Obsession

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, American Abby, Angst, Blackmail, England - Freeform, F/M, Kabby, Modern AU, Mystery, Northern England, Romance, Scottish Marcus, Smut, slow to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-23 23:29:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 150,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: When her circumstances change, Abby Griffin moves to a small northern English town where she meets Marcus Kane, prison governor, town councillor and Mayoral candidate. There's an undeniable attraction, and they embark upon an affair that has local tongues wagging. Everything seems to be going well until Kane receives a letter, and then another. A tale of attraction, ambition, guilt and obsession that leaves Kane and Abby in danger - but from whom?





	1. No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by April Maple (@snarktalk), this tale is a gift for her birthday and she is kind enough to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am absolutely loving writing it. Happy Birthday, April <3 xx
> 
> By the way - this is full of all the things April and I love - so it has England, Scottish stuff, knickers, biscuits, tea, countryside, British phrases, seaside, ocean, cliffs, birds, plants, art, photography and just about everything that makes us happy :)

Marcus Kane had a reputation as a cold, arrogant, haughty man and Abby Griffin had been fucking him for a month now. There was no rhyme or reason to it for he was the antithesis of everything she was usually attracted to in a man, and that, she realised as she sipped her morning coffee, was probably why. She was bored of nice men, considerate men, attentive men. They were dull and uninspiring. She didn’t want flowers or chocolates or taking out to a nice dinner. She’d had all that with her husband and now she wanted something different, someone different, a man who would challenge her, provoke her, arouse her from the stupor of her mundane life in this small northern English town. Step forward Marcus Kane, prison governor, local councillor, and a man who was respected and feared in equal measure by the townsfolk of Arkchester.

She’d known of him since she moved to the town six months previously; it was impossible not to as his picture was plastered all over the place, on every bare patch of wall and fence. He was even on the post opposite her cottage, so he looked down his imperious nose at her every time she left her home. It was a handsome face, though, that couldn’t be denied. There was something seductive about him. Neat dark hair, dark penetrating eyes that stripped the deepest parts of her bare when he looked at her and flashed when he was angry, thin lips that rarely smiled in public, and that nose, which was strong and confident but ever so slightly crooked and therefore a tiny flaw in his otherwise perfect frame. It was Abby’s favourite thing about him, well, second favourite, make that third. Second favourite being his surprisingly gentle Scottish accent, and most favourite being… well, we’ll come to that.

She’d finally met him in person three months ago when she’d gone to the prison at the invitation of the prison doctor, Eric Jackson, to take an art therapy class with some of the prisoners. Governor Kane had been standing in the visitor room as she entered, back straight, arms folded, nose in the air.

“Mrs Griffin, I presume,” he sniffed, and Abby was surprised that he knew who she was and that he seemed to be waiting for her.

“Er, yes, that’s right.” She held out her hand towards him, but Kane merely nodded in reply. Abby dropped her hand and raised an eyebrow as she looked at him.

“You’re not needed here. Doctor Jackson did not have permission to arrange the class or to ask you. I’m the Governor.”

“I know who you are,” Abby said with an edge to her voice. “Why am I not needed? Is there a problem?”

“There’s no problem.” Kane walked slowly towards her, his hands behind his back. Abby thought this was meant to be intimidating so she stood straighter, pulling herself up to her full height which was still a good eight or nine inches shorter than Kane. “This is a prison, where people are punished for their crimes, not rewarded with art classes.”

“The classes are not a reward; they are therapy. Doctor Jackson has selected only those patients who would benefit emotionally from my sessions.”

“Benefit emotionally!” Kane laughed at her words, shaking his head as though she’d made a joke that was so bad it was funny. “There is no room for sentiment in a prison, Mrs Griffin. Hard work, discipline and respect for authority are all that is necessary to rehabilitate those that can be saved. The rest are beyond our help.”

“I would have to disagree with you there, Governor,” Abby said, and Kane raised both his eyebrows in surprise at her challenge. He was clearly used to getting his own way on everything. “Studies have shown that there is a decrease in recidivism among prisoners who have taken part in art therapy. It can suppress aggression and violence and allow the prisoner to express themselves in an acceptable way and work through their problems.”

“Be that as it may, that is not how we do things in my prison.”

“Is that your only objection, that it’s not how you do things?” Abby shook her head as though she was disappointed in him. “Are you scared to try something new? Isn’t your campaign slogan ‘Do Whatever It Takes’?” She sniffed just like he did, although she couldn’t look down her nose at him because he was so much taller than her. She walked closer to him, so that there were mere inches between them and looked up into his dark brown eyes. “Perhaps you are all talk, and no action?”

“I’ve made my decision,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. “There is no choice in this matter.”

“We always have a choice, Governor Kane.” She picked up her artboards and started to leave the visitor room, reaching the door before his voice had boomed out behind her.

“Just a moment.”

She turned back, looked at him with a raised eyebrow. She thought she saw a slight upturn of one corner of his mouth, but if she had it had been fleeting, because the stern look was fully in place a second later.

“Perhaps we could… experiment,” he said, his mouth set in a grimace as though the words tasted bad.

“Indeed. A pilot programme perhaps. If it succeeds, then your prison will be a flagship for others to follow. It if fails, the mere act of allowing the attempt will make you seem progressive. Either way you win.”

“You think winning is all that matters to me?” Kane regarded her with a curious look.

“I don’t know you. Now where shall I set up for the class?”

“I’ll send Doctor Jackson in to deal with you. Good day, Mrs Griffin.” With that he walked out leaving Abby feeling invigorated, her blood fizzing, her pulse racing with the pleasure of victory.

\---

That had been in June, and now it was September and she was standing by her window looking out on the dew-soaked lawn of her garden. The steam from her coffee misted the glass. She took another sip, and the knock on her door made her jump even though she’d been expecting it. She set her cup down on the table and went to open the door. Kane was standing there, dressed in his usual dark suit, white shirt and blue tie. He clutched his briefcase to his side, as though it contained a bomb that would detonate if it strayed an inch from his trouser leg. Abby turned back into the room and Kane shut the door behind him and followed her. He relinquished the briefcase with reluctance, setting it down on top of the table, making sure it aligned perfectly with the edge of the wood. Abby suppressed a smile.

“What _is_ in that thing?” she said, indicating the case.

“State secrets,” said Kane with a half-smile. He closed the gap between them and leaned towards her for a kiss, his arm skirting her waist, bringing her to him. His lips were cold from the autumn air and Abby sucked on them to bring blood to them, warming him up. Kane pulled away. “Coffee breath!” he said, and Abby sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Good Lord!” she exclaimed as she marched to her small bathroom and brushed her teeth for the second time, more vigorously than usual because she was slapping Kane in her mind. He was a typical Brit, nothing but tea, couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. Well, she wasn’t giving up her daily Americano for him or anyone. She had to hold on to some of her heritage in this place.

“It’s not as if you didn’t know I was coming,” he shouted.

She rinsed her mouth and checked herself in the mirror. An annoyed face with flashing brown eyes and a sarcastic smile looked back at her. She sighed, forced a less malevolent smile onto her face and walked back to the living room, ready to confront Kane but he wasn’t there. “Where are you?” she said.

“In here.” His voice came from the upstairs bedroom and when she went through the door he was lying on the bed propped up on his elbow wearing nothing but his shorts. His clothes were in a neat pile on the chair in the corner.

“You’ve left me nothing to take off you!” Abby was indignant. Undressing him was one of her favourite activities.

“I’ve left you these,” he said, pinging the waistband of his black Marks and Spencer’s underpants.

“Are you in a hurry?” Abby knelt on the bed beside him and Kane pulled her over to him, so she landed half on top and half on the bed.

“Yes, I have a ten o’clock meeting at the Town Hall.”

“It’s nine-fifteen!”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

Kane flipped her over and straddled her calves. Abby was wearing a white slip and nothing else, which Kane soon discovered when he pushed the slip up over her thighs and his thumbs came to rest on her bare sex. “You’ve left nothing for me to undress either!”

Abby smiled. “Get on with it.”

Kane rubbed her sex with his thumbs before spreading her lips and stroking her inner folds. He settled himself further down the bed and put his mouth to her sex, his tongue licking her so lightly at first it was a tickle, a tease that she tried not to respond to for as long as possible. It was like a game to them, to see who could hold out the longest. They were probably evens at the moment, and Abby was about to go one up because Kane was in a hurry and he couldn’t afford to wait her out. He dove in deeper, tonguing her harder, long slow licks at first and then faster. Abby lay back and sighed with pleasure. One month since that first drunken time and each time since it got better and better. Her slip dropped down and covered part of Kane’s head, but he ignored it; nothing would break his rhythm when he knew she was close to the edge. It was one of the benefits of fucking a man who was self-disciplined and determined. She came hard, bucking against his mouth and Kane sucked up every drop of her desire until there was nothing left on the outside. It was the neat freak in him, she supposed. It made her laugh, endeared him to her in a strange way. He extricated himself from beneath her slip and looked up at her.

“Good?” he asked, like he always did.

“Nine out of ten,” replied Abby, watching his face as a frown appeared. He never liked to be anything less than perfect.

“Why only nine?”

“It was a little rushed. Not your fault, your meeting….”

“Oh, well yes. It is on my mind.”

Abby glanced at the bedside clock. “Thirty minutes left,” she said.

“There’s nothing like putting pressure on me!”

“Hey, I’m not the one with the meeting. I can take charge if you want.”

“You won’t tease me?”

“Not much.” Abby flipped them so that Kane was on his back and she was straddling him. She ran her hand over the front of his shorts, tracing the outline of his bulging cock.

“Take them off me,” Kane said in a strangulated voice. He pushed himself up against her hand, but Abby ignored him.

“In a minute.” She leaned forward, put her hands on either side of his face, stroking the smooth skin. She bent over him and kissed him, letting her tongue slide in, seeking his. He groaned and put his hands on her, pushing her slip up again so he could grab her bare arse. She shuffled forward so her sex was resting above his cock, and then rubbed herself against him.

“You said you wouldn’t tease!” cried Kane.

“I said, not much. I brushed my teeth for you, the least you can do is kiss me.”

“Let me inside you, and I’ll kiss you for as long as you want.”

“Hmmm. Maybe.” Abby kissed her way slowly down his torso. She could sense his frustration rising, feel the tension in his body. He was like a coiled spring, and she thought if she wound him just enough, he would explode, in a good way, of course. She reached the waistband of his shorts and glanced at the clock. Twenty-five minutes to go, and he’d need time to get across town no doubt. She took pity on him and pulled his shorts down. His cock sprang up, long and hard. She kissed the tip and it jerked beneath her lips.

“Finally!” Kane said.

“So impatient.” Abby gave him a few deep sucks and then she sat up and pulled her slip over her head. She watched Kane as he appraised her, his eyes devouring her, lingering on his favourite parts. She tweaked her nipples just to tease him some more. He groaned.

“Abby!”

“Okay, okay.” She took his cock in hand and positioned herself over it. She sank down so slowly Kane’s fingers dug deep into her arse as he tried to keep his control, not resort to begging her any more than he already had. She’d have marks later. When he was all the way inside her she leant forward again, and he kissed her, bringing his hands to her head, holding her delicately as he explored her mouth. Abby started to slide up and down his cock and Kane’s moans were muffled by their joined lips. He never spoke from this moment on, never said if it felt good or if he wanted something else. She had to use his moans and the speed of his breaths as her guide. She released him from the kiss and sat more upright, her hands on his chest for support, and increased her speed. Kane’s moans were breathy and loud. She angled herself so his cock rubbed against her clitoris with every stroke and their groans mingled in the air, rising harmoniously in tempo and pitch. He liked it fast at the end, and Abby worked hard to draw a good orgasm out of him, leaning forward again, her hands gripping his chest, her long hair falling over his face. He cried out when he came, thrusting up into her, and those last few thrusts made Abby come again.

“Oh, God,” said Kane, as Abby climbed off him and flopped onto the bed beside him. “That was good. Really good.” He pronounced the word good to rhyme more with mood, his Scottish accent coming out stronger than usual as it often seemed to do when he was less in control.

“Marks out of ten?” said Abby with a laugh.

“Eleven.”

“And we still have ten minutes to spare!”

“Is that all?” Kane turned towards her, looked across to the clock. “I’m going to have to go.”

“Take a minute, get your breath back.”

“I can’t. I have to get cleaned up and get across town.” He kissed her and then rolled over and got out of bed, hunting around in the crumpled sheets for his shorts. He picked up his pile of clothes and headed for the door. “Sorry to fuck and run,” he said.

“It’s okay,” said Abby.

“I’ll text you.” He gave her a rueful smile and Abby nodded in response. He left the room and Abby stayed where she was, listening to the sound of him washing up in the bathroom. Three minutes later she heard her front door close and he was gone. She turned onto her side and curled up. Her sex was throbbing pleasurably, and her skin was still warm and tingling. She smiled into her pillow. Their arrangement might seem odd to most people. The women she’d known over the years would be mortified at a man cutting and running after sex; they expected cuddles and spooning and whispered terms of endearment, however false they may be. Abby didn’t need any of that. Kane’s straight-forwardness, his no-nonsense approach to everything including her and sex suited her right now. She didn’t want any strings, didn’t want the complexity of falling in love, or of someone falling in love with her. This was perfect just as it was.


	2. A Mutual Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby thinks back to the second time she met Kane, and has two visitors to her home, one welcome, one not so much.

Two days after Kane’s visit to her cottage Abby was sitting in the tiny garden shed that functioned as her studio. She was painting a flower, a dahlia, which wasn’t her usual style, but she’d spotted this one growing in the garden border and had been drawn to it by the geometry of its petals. It was a challenge, because she was normally freer with her strokes, undisciplined, loose. Perhaps Kane was rubbing off on her. She smiled at the thought. This was the kind of flower that would appeal to him; neat, ordered, symmetrical. She was tempted to add a small flaw to it, a petal misaligned, a bug defying the rule of thirds, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She liked its orderliness; it calmed her.

A face appeared at the window of the shed, startling her. It was Diana Sydney, the principal of the high school where Abby taught on an ad-hoc basis. How had she got in? Abby must have left the gate unlocked again. Diana waved at her and Abby put down her paints, got up and opened the door of her shed. She went outside, not wanting Diana to see what she was painting. She never liked people to see her work until it was ready.

“Diana. What can I do for you?”

“Mrs Murphy is off sick. I was hoping you could cover her classes for the next week or so.”

“That would be fine, although I have my regular sessions at the prison on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, so I wouldn’t be able to do those times.”

“Your regular sessions? Is that what you call it?” Diana laughed.

“You know I’m talking about my art therapy sessions.”

“Yes, I do,” replied Diana as she pulled out a garden chair and sat down uninvited. Abby didn’t sit in the hope that Diana would take the hint that a long stay wasn’t welcome, but the hint was ignored. “But you are still having your other sessions, aren’t you? With Governor Kane.”

Small towns, thought Abby, they were all the same. She didn’t answer, but that didn’t deter Diana.

“How long has it been now? A month or so? That’s a record for him.”

“I’d prefer not to talk about this, Diana.”

Diana waved her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense! This is the juiciest gossip this town has had in ages.” She settled herself further into her chair. “How did it start again? The party to celebrate him being chosen as official Mayoral candidate, wasn’t it?”

“I really have to get on with my work,” said Abby, determined not to indulge Diana’s fishing expedition. No one except her and Kane knew when and how their relationship started, although Diana had guessed right, not that she was going to let her know that. “You will excuse me.” Abby opened the garden gate and gestured for Diana to leave.

“There’s a reason no one’s lasted longer than a month, you know. I can’t imagine what you see in him,” said Diana snippily as she was leaving. Abby shut the gate without replying and went into her kitchen to fix herself a gin and tonic before going back to the shed. It was a warm autumn day and she was feeling unsettled after Diana’s visit. What did she know about anything? Abby didn’t care if none of Kane’s relationships had lasted. Neither had any of hers recently. Maybe he was choosy. Maybe he had good taste. She couldn’t imagine any of these town women being interesting to a man like Kane. They were barely interesting to Abby and she didn’t have to date them or sleep with them. She knew Kane could be a difficult man; their first meeting had shown her that, but there was something about him, something that had attracted her from the start.

\---

She’d gone to the prison twice a week after that first time. She didn’t see Kane the first couple of weeks, but the third week he was there when she entered the visitor room, standing against the wall as he had when she’d first met him.

“Governor Kane!” she exclaimed with an exaggerated enthusiasm in her voice. “How lovely to see you.”

He nodded at her in response. “Mrs Griffin.”

“Call me Abby, please.”

“I prefer formality within the prison environment.”

“Of course.” His statement made Abby smile inwardly, for it implied that he preferred informality outside of the prison, and she very much doubted that was the case. She ignored Kane, busying herself with her work, setting up the easels that had been brought into the room and left leaning against the wall, adding the prisoner’s artboards from her portfolio. She was acutely aware of Kane watching her every move, and it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. “You could help, you know,” she said, stopping to look at him.

“I could,” he responded, not moving.

“Beneath you, is it?” There was something about the way he was looking at her, as though he was mocking her, that made Abby’s blood warm.

“Not at all. You have your job. I have mine.”

“And your job is to stand there doing nothing?”

“My job today is to observe, and that is what I am doing.”

“So you’re here to spy on me?” Abby set out paints on the tables next to each easel and then stood back, her task complete until the prisoners arrived.

“I’m here to monitor our experiment.”

“Our experiment?” She didn’t try to hide her scorn at his comment. He’d shown no interest in the therapy sessions since that first day.

“It is my prison, and they are my prisoners.”

“Am I yours as well, while I am here?” Her question was tongue-in-cheek, but she was gratified to see two high spots of colour appear on Kane’s pale cheeks.

“I….” Kane didn’t get to finish his sentence because the prisoners filed in, more sombre than usual when they saw the Governor was in the room.

“We’re honoured to have Governor Kane with us today,” Abby said to the prisoners. “He’s just here to observe our progress and to extend the programme if he is happy with what he sees, so let’s give him something to be happy about.” She glanced at Kane who had his mouth open as though he was going to say something, but the prisoners were watching them both and he closed it again.

“Carry on,” he said, and he folded his arms and leant against the wall at the back of the room.

Abby had her own easel set up because she’d found over the years that people relaxed more if they didn’t feel as though they were being watched and judged all the time. She did the rounds of the prisoners, checking their work, adding the occasional comment where necessary, and then she returned to her easel and made a quick sketch of Kane, glancing from him to the canvas and back again so he wouldn’t catch her staring at him for long. He was expressionless, inscrutable, but there was a lot of calculating going on behind those deep brown eyes she was certain. She’d suggested a trial programme the other week because he was about to throw her out and she’d desperately wanted to give these prisoners an opportunity to help themselves. Now she felt like she really was on trial, and Kane was standing over her as judge, jury and very possibly executioner.

When she’d finished her sketch she did the rounds again, and she was so engrossed in discussing one of the prisoner’s paintings she didn’t realise Kane had moved until she looked up and he was no longer leaning against the wall. She glanced around the room and there he was, standing at her easel, looking at her sketch of him. Abby’s pulse raced, shocking her, because there was no reason to be nervous of his opinion; it was just a sketch. He looked towards her, saw her looking at him and didn’t look away. They stared at each other. Abby’s limbs grew warm under his gaze; in fact, every part of her was warm. What the hell was going on here? She broke the eye contact before she got too hot and turned red. That would not do at all.

When she next risked a glance Kane was talking to one of the prisoners, and she was alarmed, wondering what he was asking, what the prisoner was telling him. She went over to them, adopting what she hoped was a casual stride.

“Is everything alright, Governor?”

“Yes,” replied Kane. “I was asking Williams what he thought he was getting from your classes.”

“And?” she said, anxious to know what Williams had said but trying not to let it show.

“He’s enjoying it,” Kane replied, putting the emphasis on the word ‘enjoying’, making it sound like a dirty word, and Abby bristled.

“Well, that’s good,” she said with a forced smile.

“Is it? I think I already made it clear the prisoners are not here to _enjoy_ themselves.”

“Might I have a word, Governor, in private?” Abby didn’t give Kane a chance to decline; she took him by the elbow and steered him to the corner of the room. “Doctor Jackson has diagnosed Williams with depression. I’m sure you’d agree that for a man who only a month ago could barely get out of his cell to say he’s enjoying something is a good thing?”

“I would agree it’s too soon to make snap judgements about such things.”

“Indeed it is. I hope you bear that in mind.” Abby looked Kane straight in the eye and in return his eyes flashed dark with annoyance or maybe anger, she wasn’t sure. Had she gone too far?

“I will reserve my judgement until the appropriate time, you can rest assured of that.”

Abby started to go back to the prisoners but Kane caught her arm and held on to it. “I didn’t appreciate you telling the prisoners I would be extending the programme if I was happy with what I saw today.”

Abby had no clever response to that because it had been presumptuous of her. “I am sorry for saying that, although I do hope that you will be happy with the programme, once you have come to your judgement of course.” She smiled warmly, and Kane frowned.

“Oh, well, yes. I will give it proper consideration.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Kane was still holding onto Abby’s arm and she was starting to get warm again. “I’m available if you wish to discuss the merits of the programme,” she said, and her pulse picked up as she spoke. She hoped he couldn’t feel it beating fast beneath his hand.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, and one corner of his mouth lifted into what looked like a smirk. It was brief, and then it was gone.

“Thank you,” said Abby.

Kane nodded. Abby turned to go back to the prisoners. “The sketch is a good likeness,” he said as she was walking away. She didn’t turn back, but she smiled, and her face grew warm. This was getting ridiculous.

\---

Back in her shed studio Abby sipped on her gin and tonic and smiled at the memory of those early days. She spent a pleasant hour putting the finishing touches to her painting of the dahlia and had just signed it off when her phone buzzed. It was a text message from Kane.

_Where are you?_

_I’m at home._ She replied.

_Then answer the bloody door!_

She went out into the garden and through the kitchen and living room to the front door and opened it.

“At last!” he said, an annoyed look on his face. “Your neighbour has been staring at me for five minutes.” He pushed past her into the room. Abby looked across the road to see Mrs Pickford sweeping up non-existent leaves and watching her. Abby waved, and the old woman looked away.

“She knows all your comings and goings,” Abby said with a grin. “She probably knows how many orgasms you’ve given me.”

Kane ignored her attempt at humour. He was clearly determined to be annoyed for a while longer. “It’s not good for my reputation being seen waiting on your doorstep. Why didn’t you answer the door? I knew you were in; your car is here.”

“First of all, your reputation is none of my concern and I didn’t invite you here so if you were standing too long on my doorstep that’s your fault. I didn’t hear the door because I was in my studio, and I don’t go everywhere in my car. I could have been out walking.”

“You’re American; you go everywhere in your car.”

His comment was probably true, but Abby wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that. “Would you like a drink?” she said. “I’m having a gin and tonic.”

Kane put his briefcase on the table as usual. “A G&T would be good. Thank you.”

Abby went into the kitchen to fix his drink. “Ice and lime?” Kane nodded. “So why did you decide to come around unannounced and stand on my doorstep?” She handed him the glass and he took a large sip.

“I was passing and I may have felt the tiniest bit of guilt about the way I left the other day.”

“Fucking and running you mean?”

Kane nodded. “Yes.”

“I told you it was fine.”

“I know. Still.”

Abby smiled. The more she saw of him the less she felt she knew him sometimes. It wasn’t like him to care much about how others felt. It wasn’t that he was uncaring, just that he seemed only to see the wider picture, and she often thought that to him his fellow humans were simply pawns in a huge game of chess he was playing with himself.

“Let’s go out into the garden. I’ve left my drink in my studio.” She gestured to the garden chairs as she passed. “Take a seat,” she said, but Kane ignored her and followed her to the shed.

“This is your studio?” he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes. What’s the problem?”

“No problem. It’s just really small.”

“Everything is small in your country.” She opened the door and tried to get in, get her drink and get out before Kane could follow her but she was too late. He was inside the shed, looking at her canvases that were lined up against the wall, including the one of him she’d done at the prison. He picked that one up, looked at it.

“I am handsome,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“I got the size of your head wrong,” said Abby with a straight face.

“It looks fine to me,” Kane said, peering closely at the picture.

“No,” replied Abby. “It’s nowhere near big enough.”

He treated her to a smile that lifted both sides of his mouth instead of the usual one-sided smirk and Abby grew warm, desire building in her veins. He raised an eyebrow as he brushed past her, heading for the painting she’d been working on when he knocked, the flower.

“This is different to your other work,” he said.

“It’s an experiment with a different style.”

“I like it.”

“I thought you might.”

He turned to look at her. “You thought about me, what I might like?”

“Aah, er, it was a fleeting thought, a wisp really, nothing more.” Abby felt caught, like a fly in a spider’s web. It amused him to tease her and she tried not to give him opportunities as a matter of pride, but he’d won this one.

“I see.” He moved closer to her, so there was barely any space between them. “What do you think I might like now?” he said in a low voice.

“I don’t know what you might like, but you’re going to get a kick in the balls if you don’t get out of my studio,” she whispered, and gave him her best sarcastic smile.

He held up his hands and Abby shooed him out of the shed and closed the door behind them. They settled into two garden chairs, Kane with one leg resting on the other, Abby sitting back, her long legs stretched out in front of her. They sat in a companionable silence for a while. The last of the butterflies were hunting for nectar among the borders, their colours paler now, their wings ragged at the edges. One landed on the table, a Peacock, faded red, its once bright blue eye markings a light grey. It wasn’t long for the world. The sight of it made Abby melancholy. Summer was ending, and her first northern winter was approaching. She didn’t know what to expect, but she supposed it would be colder than London, rainier.

“What are you going to do with your paintings?” Kane’s voice broke into her reverie.

“There’s an exhibition at the museum in a couple of months. I’ve reserved some space so I will probably show them there.”

“I think I’m supposed to be a judge at that,” replied Kane.

“Oh. That might be awkward then.”

“I don’t see why. I’m impartial.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Exactly.”

“I’d better not exhibit the one of you, though.”

“No, perhaps not.” Kane drained his glass and set it down on the table. “I should go.” He stood up and Abby stood up with him.

“Another meeting?” she asked as she followed him towards the door.

“Later. I have to prepare a speech.”

“Good luck with that.”

Kane stopped abruptly at the door and Abby bumped into him. He turned, his eyes dark as he looked at her. “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Abby was taken aback, not that he wanted to kiss her, but that he’d asked permission. It was odd.

“I want to kiss you before I go.”

“Okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her lips and the lack of spontaneity made it feel awkward, like the first kiss of two teenagers. You wouldn’t think they’d been fucking two or three times a week for a month, thought Abby. Then Kane put his hands on the side of her face and his tongue nudged at her lips seeking entrance and she let him in. The kiss deepened and before she knew it he’d spun her round and she was pressed against the door. She put her arms around his back and held him tight. His lips left her mouth and trailed down her neck; his hand moved lower until he was cupping her breast and she was moaning and pressing herself to him.

“I didn’t come here to fuck,” he whispered as he undid the buttons on her blouse, exposing her white bra. He ran his fingers over the swell of her breast and moaned. “Honestly.”

“I know, I know,” Abby breathed as he pulled down her bra and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking on it lightly. “But you are though, aren’t you? Going to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he said, and he pulled up her skirt, put his hand in her knickers where he would find her wet with desire for him.

Abby looked around. Her garden wasn’t overlooked by any other houses but nevertheless she felt dirty and sexy being fondled on her back doorstep, her breast exposed, her skirt around her waist. Someone could come to the back gate, like Diana had, and see them. Kane’s fingers had found her clit and he was stroking her and she was so turned on, so heated, that her brain was buzzing almost instantly and she came in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck!” she said.

“That was quick,” he murmured, but it wasn’t that quick, not really, because she’d been wet since he’d smiled at her in her studio. She’d thought she would have to take care of herself when he was gone but he’d done it for her and it was time to return the favour. She stepped out of her knickers and discarded them on the ground, then returned her attention to him. Her fingers worked on the buckle of his belt, fumbling it open, then she popped the button through its slot, pulled the zipper down. The pants fell around his ankles, closely followed by his shorts as she freed his straining cock from its confines. She stroked his length and he kissed her again while she did it, moaning into her mouth with every beat.

Kane moved onto the lower step so Abby was at eye level with him. He hooked her leg around his thigh and then he took himself in hand and pushed into her, pressing her back into the door with the power of his thrust. Abby let out a cry and then worried that it had been too loud and someone walking past, or worse still, Mrs Pickford, had heard it and was coming to see if she was being murdered. The thought scared her and tantalised her in equal measure. She watched the gate as Kane fucked her hard and fast. He buried his own cry in her neck as he came. They stood joined together for a moment, panting. Kane’s eyes were unreadable as they bored into Abby.

He breathed out heavily as he withdrew from her. “Wow,” he said.

“Yes,” said Abby with a laugh.

“I don’t know how I held out that long to be honest,” he said with a half-smile. “I wanted to take you in your studio, but I didn’t want to ruin your paintings.”

“I wanted you too, but the waiting made it better,” she said. She picked up her knickers but didn’t put them back on; they were covered in grit and soil from where they’d landed. Kane was pulling up his pants but he didn’t fasten himself back into them.

“What’s the matter?” said Abby, although she knew the answer.

“I feel a bit, er,” he hesitated, probably not wanting to say the word dirty or unclean or sticky or however it was he felt in case it offended Abby.

“Why don’t you have a shower before you go,” she said, to save him any further embarrassment.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll get you clean towels.” She opened the door and tried not to smile as Kane pulled off his pants and shorts before padding bare-arsed through her kitchen towards the bathroom. She wasn’t offended by his behaviour; it was a compulsion that he couldn’t help and she understood that. He could no more put his clothes on without washing himself than she could go to sleep at night without checking every window and door was locked at least twice. Everyone had their quirks. She went to the bathroom and he was already in the shower, humming to himself as he got clean. She dropped her knickers into the laundry basket then left the towels on top of the lid and closed the door.

She went into the kitchen and started chopping vegetables for her dinner that night for want of something to do while he was showering. He came into the room ten minutes later, looking as sharp as he had when he’d arrived, albeit with damp hair that was wavy. It made him look softer than his usual neatly gelled locks; perhaps that was why he did it, to give him authority, not that he needed it.

“Better?” she said.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I need to go,” he said. “My speech.”

Abby nodded. “I hope it goes well.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Kane nodded as well, looking at her for a moment, then he turned and went into the living room, picked up his briefcase and left. Abby returned to chopping the vegetables. Something had changed today between them, she could feel it. Not a big thing, but something. He hadn’t come for sex, she believed that, even though they’d ended up having it, so what had he come for? To talk? To lessen his guilt about leaving? There was no need for him to feel guilty because their relationship was one with no strings, no expectations, so why had he felt that need? Perhaps he had simply wanted to see her, but there was nothing simple about that if it was the case because it implied feelings, and feelings led to complexity and that was exactly what she was trying to avoid. She sighed. She was probably reading too much into this. He wasn’t a robot after all; he’d felt bad for leaving straight after sex and he’d come around to make it up to her and they’d fucked because let’s face it their mutual attraction was undeniable, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. That’s all there was to it.


	3. The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane has a proposal for Abby

Some form of attraction between Abby and Kane had been there from the start, at least it had been for her, but she wouldn’t have admitted at the time it was anything more than a fascination with a man so different from pretty much anyone else she’d ever met. Yes, he made her warm when he looked at her and yes, she had gone home after that observation session and masturbated while thinking about him taking her up against the wall he’d been leaning against, but it was just a fantasy, something to while away the time because she was bored and lonely and sometimes horny. There was nothing else to it. That was until they had a third meeting, and something changed.

She hadn’t seen Kane in the prison after the time he’d observed her session, but Doctor Jackson had told her he’d asked for a weekly report on the prisoners’ responses to the programme. Abby received a summons to go to the prison for a meeting with Kane six weeks later. She wore dark grey jeans with knee-high boots and a white shirt that was just a little too tight and emphasised her breasts but in a subtle way. She wove her long hair into a side braid and put on light make-up. She wanted to look chic but casual, as though she hadn’t really tried and this was simply how fabulous she looked every time she rolled out of bed, which was a lie because she usually looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards as the British liked to say. If she was in a big painting mood she often forgot to wash and dress at all, just padded out to her studio in her pyjamas and came back in when it got dark having eaten nothing but the peanuts she kept with her paints for such an occasion.

She left her battered old Volvo in a space that had been reserved for her and was shown through to an ante room outside Kane’s office. She was offered tea or coffee by his assistant and having tried the coffee in the prison once before and vowing never again she opted for tea with a splash of milk. At precisely eleven o’clock the door to Kane’s office opened and the man himself came out. He looked exactly as he had when she’d painted him, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and dark blue tie. His boots shone as did his hair when the light hit it. She wondered if he put shoe polish on that as well and the thought made her smile.

“Something amusing to you, Mrs Griffin?” he said with a frown.

“Not at all, Governor Kane, not at all.”

Kane turned without another word and went back into his office and Abby followed him. He gestured to a seat in front of his desk and Abby sat down. The assistant came in with two teas, one white, one black, and a small plate of biscuits.

“Governor Kane always has tea and biscuits at eleven o’clock,” she said to Abby with a smile.

“I’m sure he does,” replied Abby.

“Routine makes the world go around,” said Kane as the assistant left, shutting the door behind her.

“I thought that was money,” said Abby.

“Not in my prison,” replied Kane. “Would you like a biscuit?”

Abby chose a pink wafery-looking confection and then regretted it when it splintered into crumbs as she took a bite. She brushed them away and picked a large crumb out of her cleavage without thinking what she was doing. She leaned forward to put the crumb back on the plate and caught Kane’s raised eyebrow just before he picked up his report and shielded his face with it.

“There’s a report for you on the desk,” he said from behind his folder.

“Thank you.” Abby picked up the report and flicked through it. There was silence while she skimmed it and Kane did whatever he was doing behind his copy. Rearranging his face, she presumed, because heaven forbid she should catch him smiling or laughing. What a man! They were only breasts, and he’d hardly seen anything. She should say that to him, catch him off guard. She was about to speak when he put down his report and looked at her. His face was neutral, his eyes dark and as unreadable as ever.

“So?” he said after taking a sip of his tea.

Abby waited for the rest of the sentence, but nothing came. “So, what?”

“What do you think of the report?”

“Well, I haven’t had time to read it properly, but I think the outcomes are promising.” She examined Kane’s face, looking for clues to his thoughts. There were none. He put his report on the table in front of him, flicked through some of the pages. He had highlighted sections in yellow marker, and there were colour-coordinated tabs on certain pages.

“I agree,” he said, and Abby was so surprised she didn’t think she’d heard him properly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I agree. The outcomes are promising. Obviously, none of this is good science, just anecdotal evidence. And I can’t attest to your theory about decreased recidivism because the inmates are still here and will be for a long time, but nevertheless, the improvement in the behaviour of the participants has been notable.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Abby smiled broadly. She was delighted to hear this, and pleasantly surprised that Kane had been honest and open with her about his opinion. She had wondered if he was the type of man who would shut down an idea no matter how good it was because he didn’t like it, or it hadn’t come from him. Evidently, he was not.

Kane chose a plain biscuit that had NICE written on it, which Abby thought was presumptuous of the biscuit manufacturer. He took a bite of the biscuit and of course not a crumb fell on him, except for one morsel that nestled at the edge of his mouth. Abby watched as he used his thumb to pick the crumb off and then put it in his mouth and sucked it. He was looking at her as he did this, and Abby grew warm again. She didn’t think he knew the effect he was having but it was hard to tell when he was so inscrutable.

“What if it’s not nice?” she said to distract from her discomfort.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The biscuit. It’s presumptuous of the manufacturer don’t you think?”

“It’s Nice, as in the French town, not nice as in pleasant,” he said.

“Oh.” Abby felt stupid as she did so often in this country. She’d been here for five years overall and still got confused. Everything was upside down and back to front. The British didn’t know how to do straightforward.

“A common mistake,” said Kane, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the hint of a smile.

“So, what happens next?” said Abby, anxious to move on.

“That’s rather up to you.”

“Is it?”

“Will you be staying in Arkchester long?”

Abby was confused as to where this was going. “Why do you ask?”

“I heard on the grapevine, which means my assistant, McIntyre, that you have rented your cottage for a year only, so it would seem pointless to try and continue our arrangement if you don’t mean to stay.”

“Oh, oh I see. It’s a rolling twelve-month lease, so I can renew if I wish.”

“And do you? Wish to renew it?”

“Erm, I….” Kane was asking her questions that Abby hadn’t given much thought to herself. She was supposed to be living life a day at a time, trying not to think too much about the future.

“Let me put it this way,” said Kane, and he leant forward with his hands steepled in front of him. “I’m prepared to take this project to the next level, to set it up properly with clear aims and outcomes and lines of reporting. That way we can be accountable and ensure that the prisoners receive fair and equitable treatment and we have a report, say at the end of a year, that will prove one way or another whether this is a useful project that can be replicated in other prisons.”

“That is more than I hoped for the project,” said Abby.

“But if you are not here to run it, assuming you would want to, of course….”

“If I were to stay, I’m afraid I couldn’t continue to run it on a voluntary basis as I do now, not if I am to pay rent and eat, things like that.”

“You are not being paid?” said Kane, a surprised look on his face.

“No. It came about through a conversation I had with Doctor Jackson and we both wanted to try it.”

“That is easily solved. I oversee the budget. I will get you on the payroll, backdated of course.”

“Oh, there’s no need to backdate it. I’ve enjoyed the work.”

“Nonsense. A fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work.”

“Is that one of your campaign slogans?” Abby smiled.

“Not mine, but it’s one with which I happen to agree.”

“I would very much like to continue with the project, but…” Abby didn’t want to tell Kane too much about herself. This town was her escape, her chance to heal, and people knowing every detail made that hard to do.

“But you won’t be staying.” Kane nodded and closed his report. He pursed his lips and then gave her a brief smile, but he didn’t look happy, he looked disappointed. He was probably thinking she’d got him interested in the project and when he’d decided to support her she’d let him down. “Very well,” he said. He started to rise from his chair, but Abby leaned across and put her hand on his to stop him. “No, wait,” she said.

Kane sat back down. Abby took a deep breath. “I’m here for personal reasons. My husband. Well, he, er, he left me a couple of years ago and I tried to stay in London, but I couldn’t, well, it’s a very expensive city, and the memories, you know. So I came here. For something new, different.” She looked up at Kane. “I just want to live each day as it comes, be in the moment. You probably find that hard to understand. I would like to do the project, but I can’t commit to staying beyond my lease until that time comes. Only then will I know if I want to renew another year.” She only realised she still had her hand on his when she felt his thumb stroke hers, just once, and then he removed his hand and sat back.

“Perhaps we can find someone for you to take under your wing, someone who could continue the project should you feel the need to move on when your lease is up. How does that sound?”

“Someone from within the prison? A prisoner?” Excitement fluttered in Abby’s stomach.

“Oh, er, I’m not sure about that. A prisoner?” he frowned.

“There must be someone trustworthy, someone with an art background perhaps? With Doctor Jackson’s support. We could do it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He looked at his watch and stood up. “It’s time for my next appointment.” He went to the door, grabbed the handle. Abby stood and waited for him to open it for her, but he didn’t, not at first. “I understand the need for things to be… uncluttered,” he said. He was standing so close, and he was looking at her as though he could see right inside to her soul. His eyes dropped to her lips and then back, and for a moment Abby thought he was going to kiss her, which would have been the most inappropriate thing in the world for him to do, and yet a small part of her was disappointed when he stood back and opened the door.

“I will be in touch with details of your appointment,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Abby hurried back to her car and sat inside it. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened in there. Somehow, she had a paid job in the prison, and Kane was going to be her boss. She’d told him more about herself than she’d told anyone in this town in the last six months, Kane of all people, and he’d understood, at least in part. She knew he wouldn’t bring up the subject again unless she wanted to. She could be herself with him, whoever that was these days. What he was thinking she wasn’t sure, but she doubted he gave away intimate details any more often than she did. He understood the need for things to be simple. Did that extend to her? To them? Time would tell.

A week later and Abby was taking a therapy session in the prison when Governor Kane’s assistant, McIntyre, entered to ask her to stop by his office after she’d finished. She did as requested and went straight into his room at McIntyre’s insistence. Kane was sitting behind his huge desk, his head bent over some paperwork. He looked up and she was surprised to see he was wearing glasses, black-framed and very becoming. On the desk were two cups of tea, one white, one black and two biscuits, a pink wafer and a Nice biscuit.

“What is this?” she said, gesturing to the refreshments.

“Afternoon tea,” said Kane. “It’s three o’clock. That’s your favourite biscuit, isn’t it?”

“MY favourite?” Abby laughed. “You’re out of luck, Sir. My shirt is higher cut today.”

Kane took off his glasses, held them in his hand. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He kept a straight face, because when didn’t he, but there was a gleam in his eye, or else a reflection, one or the other.

Abby smiled. She took a seat, feeling more relaxed in his company than she had before. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned?”

“This.” Kane handed over the papers he had been perusing. “It’s a contract. A rolling three-month contract. It’s the best I could do; anything shorter requires a whole different set of procedures that her Majesty’s Government wouldn’t agree to.”

Abby was touched that he’d considered her wish not to be tied down and tried to facilitate it as best he could. “If I sign this I work for the Government?”

“Her Majesty’s Prison Service, yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. So I work for the Queen?”

“You work for me, that’s all that should concern you.”

Abby raised her eyebrow at him, gave him a long look which Kane withstood. “Do you have a pen?”

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“Have you treated me fairly?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will sign it.”

Kane handed his pen to her. “You should always read a contract through carefully. I would strongly advise that.”

“I trust you. It’s the glasses.” Abby signed where Kane had marked and handed the contract back to him. “So now I’m all yours,” she said in a low voice.

“Twice a week,” he replied.

“Twice a week, huh? What if I want to do overtime?” She was sailing close to the wind with her comments, but there was nothing wrong with a little flirting; she was enjoying it and she thought he was too, though it was hard to tell as usual.

“Only I can authorise that, and it would be unpaid.”

“No reward then?”

“Work should be its own reward.”

“Depends on the work I guess.”

Kane tapped his fingers on his desk, looked at her. He was working himself up to something she could tell, but what? “There’s an event, next week,” he said. “They’re choosing who will oppose the current mayor in the upcoming elections.”

“I know,” replied Abby. “The posters are everywhere. Do you think you stand a chance?”

“I don’t see why not. I have all the right credentials.”

Abby smiled and nodded. He had absolute faith in himself and a couple of months ago she would have thought his attitude pompous and overbearing. It still was, but some of the bluntness had rubbed off his edges now she knew him a little better. “I wish you success.”

“Thank you.” He coughed. “It’s next Thursday. In the Town Hall. Eight o’clock.”

“Yes.” Was this his clumsy attempt at asking her out? To a political meeting? She wasn’t sure, so she kept quiet.

“Yes, Well. There’s champagne, if I win of course.”

“What if you don’t win? Is it tea and Nice biscuits?”

Kane laughed, the first laugh she’d ever heard come out of him. It was low and deep and rumbled up from his belly. “I won’t lose,” he said.

“Well, if I’m passing, next Thursday is it? I will make sure to call in and congratulate you.”

“If you’re passing.”

“Thank you for the contract.” Abby pushed back her chair and stood to leave.

“Oh, one more thing,” said Kane. He handed her an envelope. “Your backpay,” he said.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did.”

Abby opened the envelope and took out a cheque. It was for the same amount per session she had signed up for on her new contract. “Thank you.” She looked at it closely. It wasn’t from the prison service, it was from his personal account, Marcus Kane Esq. “This is from you!” She frowned at him. What was he playing at?

“Yes, sorry about that. The Government won’t pay for work that has already been undertaken without a contract.”

“Well then I shouldn’t be paid. I told you I didn’t want the backpay.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“No, I can’t accept this.” She held the cheque out to him but he didn’t take it.

“I don’t see why not. Work is work. You did the work on my behalf.”

“I did the work because I wanted to do it. No, I appreciate the gesture but I can’t accept.”

Kane took the cheque from her. “Very well.” He held his head high, looked down his nose at her. She’d offended him. Oh, well. It didn’t feel right, like he was buying her or feeling sorry for her or something. She didn’t want that. She refused to feel guilty.

“Good luck next Thursday.”

Kane nodded and then he turned and went back to his desk, put his glasses on, shuffled his papers around. Abby looked at him. It was just a kind gesture, that’s all, from a man who liked things to be equitable, and she’d thrown it back in his face. Damn him. Now she was feeling guilty.

“I suppose….”

Kane looked up frowning, as though he was surprised she was still there.

“Yes?” he said gruffly.

“I could put the money to good use.”

“Very well.” Kane held the cheque out to Abby and she took it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re not going to spend it on yourself, are you?” he said as she turned to leave.

How did he know what she was thinking? “Er, no. I thought I would give the money to charity.”

Kane nodded. “I thought as much.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It’s your money now.”

“Yes. Well, okay then. I do appreciate it.”

She opened the door and was halfway through it when he spoke again.

“The Prison Reform Trust.”

Abby turned. “I’m sorry?”

“If you insist on giving it away.” He looked at her over the top of his glasses, a look that was admonishing and amused at the same time.

Abby smiled, and nodded, then she left, closing the door behind her.


	4. Town Hall Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the candidate selection day and Abby goes to the Town Hall to support Kane.

On the day of the candidate selection event or whatever it was she was supposed to be attending, Abby had worked in the prison as usual on a Thursday. She hadn’t seen Kane, but Doctor Jackson had told her he’d taken the day off to do last-minute campaigning. Abby had received one of his leaflets through the post the day before. She’d scanned it to see if there was a personal note to her – see you Thursday, hoping for your vote Mrs Griffin, or kiss my arse – but there was nothing. She knew he’d posted it himself because she was sitting in her armchair by the window reading when the letterbox banged, and she’d looked out to see him striding down her garden path, carefully latching the gate behind him. She’d leaned into the shadows in case he looked back at her house, but he hadn’t.

She spent a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to wear to the event. It was a beautiful August day, still warm as evening approached, so she wanted something semi-formal but light. She liked her blue sundress, but it was too short; not a problem if she was going on a date with Kane but to a formal political event with all the town present? It would set the gossips’ tongues on fire. Her black halter-neck dress made her look too Californian for this small English town, her red dress was too strappy. There was a reason why she lived in jeans and shirts most of the time. In the end she chose a cream patterned dress with a plunging neckline and gently flared skirt. The neckline might seem daring to some, but to hell with it. Let them all talk. She accessorised with her high-heeled gladiator sandals. She could hardly walk in them, but they gave her much-needed height so Kane wouldn’t be able to look down on her quite as much. She left her hair loose and gently waved. She stood back and appraised herself in the mirror. Damn fine, she thought, and then laughed.

She drove to the Town Hall in her car; it was only a mile into town from her cottage, but she would never walk that distance in these shoes. If Kane lost and it was tea and biscuits she’d be able to drive home. If he won and there was champagne, she could get a cab or walk through the fields in her bare feet if she chose. It was nine o’clock when she arrived; an hour late but her mother had taught her never to arrive at a party on time. Of course this was Britain, and everyone arrived early or on the dot, so when she walked into the main hall it seemed like most of the town was already there and they all turned to look at her at the same time. She nodded to a few people she knew and strode through the hall as though she had every right to be there which she did. People were whispering about her, but she ignored it. She’d gotten used to being the exotic specimen, the American. She scanned the crowd for Kane. He was in the far corner of the room deep in conversation with another man. He hadn’t noticed her arrival.

Abby stood to the side, waiting for him to finish talking. When his companion left, Kane turned around, a weary look on his face. He caught sight of her and his mouth formed a small O. He gave her the briefest of appraisals and then he smiled.

“Mrs Griffin. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He took her hand and Abby leaned in to give him a formal kiss on the cheek.

“When are you going to call me Abby?” She whispered into his ear.

“When the time is right,” he murmured, the low rumble of his voice sending a shiver down Abby’s spine, making her limbs tingle.

“Councillor Kane,” she said in a louder voice, giving him his other title. “How is the evening going?”

“They’re counting the votes as we speak.” His assistant arrived with a tray of drinks and some small bowls of strawberries. Kane took two glasses from the tray. “Would you like some champagne?” He held a glass out to her and Abby took it.

“Champagne already? You must be confident.”

“Always,” replied Kane, “but I thought we’d have it early no matter what. To hell with it.”

Abby thought he must have had a couple of glasses already because he was more effusive than usual. “That’s a good attitude,” she said.

McIntyre left, and they were alone for a moment. Kane looked at her as he took a sip of his drink. “You look….” He paused, and Abby waited, but no follow-up word was forthcoming.

“I look what? Hot, stunning, amazing, like shit? Give me the truth, I can take it.”

“All of the above,” replied Kane, “Well, except for the last one.”

“I look better without the biscuit crumbs I bet?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage and Abby figured he was remembering what she’d done with that wafer crumb.

“Do you like what you see?” she said, emboldened by the champagne.

Kane looked up at her face, surprised and flustered. “I. Erm, sorry. I was just….”

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

They stared at each other. The air was thick with tension, and parts of Abby’s body were throbbing. She wondered if parts of him were too. If they’d been truly alone right now, if they weren’t amongst hundreds of other people, she could reach out and touch him, find out for herself.

“Councillor Kane!” A voice boomed at them, breaking the spell. Kane raised an eyebrow at Abby as though to say, ‘here we go’, and turned around to the interloper.

“Mayor Jaha. Thank you for coming tonight.” Kane held out his hand to the man Abby recognised as the mayor of Arkchester, Thelonious Jaha. Jaha shook it briefly.

“Of course I’m here. Need to check out who’s going to be my competition in the November election.”

“Have you met Mrs Griffin?”

“I have not had the pleasure, although I have heard about you of course.” He took Abby’s hand and kissed the back of it. She sensed Kane stiffen next to her. Was there something between the two men? “Mrs Griffin is very formal, isn’t it?” said Jaha. “What’s your first name?”

“Abigail,” said Abby. No one ever called her Abigail, but for some reason the only man she wanted to call her Abby tonight was Kane, and until he’d done that, if he ever did, she certainly wasn’t going to let this man call it her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kane look at her.

“Call me Thelonious. Have you ever visited the Town Hall before, Abigail?”

“I have not, Thelonious. It’s very beautiful.”

“It is. Four hundred years old. Perhaps I can show you around?” He held out his arm as though he expected her to take it.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. Councillor Kane has promised to show me around later, so I wouldn’t want to pre-empt that. Thank you, though.” She smiled sweetly at Jaha and hoped that he would get the message to go away and leave her alone. He did not.

“What is it that you do, Abigail?” he asked.

“I’m an artist, and occasional teacher and art therapist. Whatever buys me my daily bread.”

“And your husband? What does he do?”

Abby was sick of these questions, always the same, fishing for information. She’d told different stories to virtually everyone who’d ever asked, and no one knew the truth except for Kane. “Oh, he’s dead,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Jaha, although he didn’t look sorry; he looked delighted.

“Don’t be. He was in bed with his mistress at the time. Young thing, you know how it is. Heart attack in flagrante. They had to be prised apart.”

Kane spluttered beside her and disguised it by turning it into a cough.

“Are you alright, Kane?” said Jaha.

“Champagne,” Kane said as he tried to breathe. “Wrong way.”

At that moment a voice came from the stage, amplified by the microphone. “Can Councillor Kane and Councillor Muir come to the stage please. The votes are in.”

Kane turned to Abby before he left. “You’re something else,” he said with an admiring smile.

“You bet I am.” Abby took his hand and squeezed it briefly. “Good luck.”

Fortunately, Jaha left as well to stand at the front of the stage no doubt to be at the centre of the action. Abby remained where she was. She drained the rest of her glass and took another from a tray as it glided past on the arm of a young volunteer with a Kane for Mayor t-shirt. Abby would have to get herself one of those t-shirts. It would be funny to wear it to bed, especially if he was with her. She imagined him on top of her, fucking her earnestly while staring at a picture of himself. He’d probably like that. She laughed out loud at the image, and the people near her looked and frowned.

Kane was standing ramrod straight on the stage as the votes were announced, his hands behind his back. Abby didn’t know what the share of the votes was because the announcer had a thick Lancashire accent and she couldn’t understand him, but she recognised Kane’s name and a cheer went up in a section of the crowd. Kane turned to look at her with a smile on his face and she held her nearly-empty champagne glass up to him. Then he was swallowed up in a crowd of well-wishers and she didn’t see him again for a while.

She saw one of the teachers from the school and chatted with her and then resumed her position against the back wall. She took another glass of champagne, which was her what? Second, third? She wasn’t sure, but she was feeling good, and she didn’t even mind that Diana Sydney was heading her way.

“Abby!” she exclaimed in a loud voice as she came over. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a registered voter, Diana.”

“I’m sure, but our provincial little politics must seem boring to you. You have movie stars as mayors, don’t you? Not prison governors and software engineers.”

“We have small towns in America too.”

“Hmmm, yes. There must be some other attraction for you, though, surely?”

Another fishing expedition. Didn’t these people have lives of their own? Go and make some gossip of your own and leave me alone. Of course she didn’t say this, although perhaps after another glass of champagne she might. “I’ve always wanted to see the Town Hall, and what better opportunity?”

“You’re a little dressed up for the Town Hall, though, dear.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well…” Diana looked Abby up and down as though it were perfectly obvious she was overdressed.

Abby drained her glass. “I’ll know for next time,” she said. “Would you excuse me.” She left Diana staring at her and headed for the side door, sweeping up another glass of champagne on the way. If she stayed in this town longer than a year she’d be an alcoholic. She found herself in a long wood-panelled hallway, with doors off to either side. Some were locked but others were open and she poked around in them, looking in cupboards, opening drawers. All the rooms were dark, with big heavy curtains covering small windows and high ceilings with moulded cornices and ornate ceiling roses from which hung chandeliers which probably once held candles but were now wired up for electric light. The walls were covered in large gilt-framed pictures of old men with beards and moustaches, some of them wearing hats or powdery wigs.

One of the rooms had a book shelf with dusty leather-bound books. She picked one out and started to flick through its pages. It was a history of Lancashire, so it had some passing interest to her. The door scraped open and closed and she turned to look at who had come in to invade her quiet space. It was Kane. He had two glasses of champagne in his hands and his tie was draped over his arm.

“I thought perhaps you’d gone,” he said.

“So you’re wandering around with two drinks for no reason, then?” Abby smiled.

“I was hopeful.”

“Were you?” Abby took one of the glasses and clinked it against Kane’s. “Congratulations,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Kane perched on the edge of a huge wooden desk and sighed.

“Tired?” said Abby.

“A little.”

“It’s been a long day, but you’re mayoral candidate now, so that’s great.”

“It is, yes. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Then I’m happy for you. Are you up against that Jaha guy next then?”

“Yes, he’s the sitting mayor. The election is in two months, so the campaigning will only get more intense.”

“I want you to beat him. He’s a prick.”

Kane laughed. “He’s no match for you.”

“You enjoyed what I said to him?”

“I did.” Kane put his glass down on the table and held out his hand to Abby. She took it and he pulled her towards him so she was standing in the vee of his legs. Abby’s heart was racing. She wanted this, wanted him. She set her own glass down. “You’re very, very sexy,” said Kane, “and I don’t just mean how you look.”

“You’re pretty hot yourself.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.” Abby leaned towards him and they kissed, softly at first. He tasted of champagne and strawberries. He held her face in his hands, his fingers curling into her hair. The kiss deepened, his tongue finding hers, and Abby moaned, desire coursing through her. She slipped his jacket from his shoulders and he shrugged it off. His hands moved beneath the skirt of her dress, pushing it up, stroking the back of her thighs, up to her arse. He squeezed her, his fingers caressing the silk of her knickers. Abby undid the buttons on his shirt, pulled it out of his pants. His chest was broad, his skin olive brown and soft. His nipples were standing hard and she bent to suck one. Kane groaned. He let go of her so she could take his shirt off completely, and Abby ran her hands over his chest, thumbing his nipples, tracing the clefts between his muscles.

Kane flipped them round so that Abby was the one standing against the desk. He kissed her, and his hand moved beneath her skirt again, his fingers grazing the waistband of her pants. He slipped his hand beneath. “Is this okay?” he whispered. “Yes,” Abby breathed, and she moaned when his fingers moved lower, finding her wetness, slipping between her lips to stroke her. He looked at her with dark eyes filled with desire, and he held her gaze the whole time as he circled her clit, round and round, and Abby pushed against his fingers. Her breathing got faster and louder and Kane increased his rhythm until her whole body was buzzing even her teeth, and she was pulsing beneath his fingers.

“Good?” he said.

“So good, so, so good.”

He looked at her with a half-frown, half-smile as though she was completely new to him, like something he’d never seen before and was trying to figure out. He stroked her face and she could smell herself on his fingers. It turned her on that he smelled of her, that she had marked him in that way. She undid his belt and the button at the top of his trousers, pulled the zip down. He helped her by pushing his trousers and his underwear down in one. His cock sprang up and it was big, long, but not too thick. Abby stroked it and Kane moaned.

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, since you stood up to me about the project.” He lifted her so she was sitting on the table, pulled her knickers down and spread her legs. He took his cock in hand and rubbed it against her sex before easing into her. Abby put her hands on his arse to encourage him but he took his time, pulling out and pushing back in, further and further every time. She let her head fall back, closed her eyes. Oh, it felt so good to have him inside her, filling her, stretching her. She lay back on the desk and Kane leant over her, his hands caressing her breasts, easing the straps of her dress down. He freed her nipples, kissing and sucking each one in turn, groaning as he did so. Abby wrapped her legs high around his back to angle him so he hit a spot that felt so good every time. Kane moved faster and faster, thumbing her clit. The desk was rocking, their breathy moans were loud. Abby didn’t know if he’d locked the door. Fuck, what if he hadn’t locked the door? Never mind that, she was going to come again, she was getting warmer and warmer just keep hitting that spot. Oh. She cried out, and Kane let out a strangled cry and she could feel him emptying inside her.

“Oh, God,” he said. “Oh, God, Abby.”

He withdrew from her and Abby sat up. He’d used her name. A warm shiver ran through her. They looked at each other. Abby smiled, and Kane smiled. “Are you okay?” he said. Abby nodded. She was still getting her breath back and couldn’t trust herself to speak. Kane leaned in again and kissed her, and she put her hands on his head, running her fingers through the stiff hairs.

“You were amazing,” she said when they parted. She pulled herself back together, tucking her breasts back into her bra, pulling the straps of her dress up. Kane bent down and picked up her knickers handing them to her. He turned his back on her while he pulled up his pants, taking an age to tuck himself in, fasten his belt. Was he suddenly shy or something? Surely not. When he turned back around she handed him his crumpled shirt and helped him fasten it back up. She jumped off the desk so she could pull on her knickers and smooth down her dress. They stood and looked at each other. It was as though nothing had ever happened, except his hair was mussed up and his shirt creased. Abby didn’t know what she must look like, but she imagined her hair was in a similar state to his. But something had happened, of course, everything had changed. Her sex was throbbing, her knickers were damp, her nipples were still hard, and she thought if they had all night she could go again as soon as he was ready. Kane looked tired, though, black circles under his eyes, his skin pale.

“This isn’t even going to be my room if I win,” said Kane, and Abby laughed.

“When you win we’ll christen your room as well.”

“So there’ll be another time?” he said.

“I’d have thought so, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded. “Can I walk you home?”

Abby shook her head. “I’ll get a cab. It’s too far for you to walk there and back again, unless you want to stay?”

“I would. I really would, but I have to be up early tomorrow and everything I need is at home.”

“Okay. You know it’s probably best if we’re not seen leaving together. I don’t know if anyone’s still here, but you have an election to win. We don’t want to jeopardise that.”

“Okay.” He stroked her face again, kissed her lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.” Abby went to the door, turned the handle. It didn’t open until she turned a switch, so he had locked it. He’d come looking for her with every intention of doing what they’d just done. She smiled as she stepped out into the hallway and made her way through the sparse crowd to the front door. She was lucky to find her opposite neighbour, Mrs Pickford, getting into a cab, so she shared the journey and paid for the fare and was home within twenty minutes of leaving Kane. She stripped off her dress, leaving it on the floor, and got into bed in just her knickers. She felt happy for the first time in ages. Great sex with a good man who understood she wanted to keep things simple. They could have fun without too much commitment, and she fell asleep thinking about what they’d done, and what they’d do when they met again.


	5. Finish What You Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane and Abby's next meeting leaves them both frustrated.

Abby didn’t hear from Kane after their tryst in the Town Hall; she didn’t really expect to for she’d told him she wanted things simple, but part of her wondered if he’d been drunker than she’d thought and was regretting what they’d done. She didn’t regret it at all and was looking forward to hooking up with him again if he wanted to, but she wasn’t going to get in touch especially, not yet at least. Tuesday saw her back at the prison for the first of her paid sessions on her new contract. Half an hour before the session was due to end the door opened and Abby had a feeling she knew who it was before she turned around to look and was proved right. Her stomach flipped as Kane sauntered in. He looked at her with that deadpan expression he had perfected, and Abby fought hard not to smile.

“I’m just here to observe,” he said, as all the prisoners turned to look at him. “Carry on.” He took up his position against the back wall without saying another word or acknowledging her. Abby wasn’t sure if this was his way of keeping things formal in the prison environment or if he didn’t want to speak to her. Surely not the latter or else why would he be here? Abby continued with her class and wrapped it up without looking again at Kane.

When the prisoners had filed out only Kane remained. She turned to look at him. “It’s three o’clock, Governor. Won’t your tea be getting cold?”

“I’m living dangerously today,” Kane replied.

“Are you?”

“Must be your influence.”

Abby smiled as she went around the room folding up the easels, putting the caps back on the paints. As before, Kane didn’t help, just stood and watched. When she’d tidied everything away Abby went up to Kane.

“Can I see your hands?”

Kane frowned. “Why?”

“Just let me see them.”

He held out his hands to her and Abby took them in hers, turning them over, examining them closely, running her fingers over the joints and lines. “As I suspected,” she said.

“What?” said Kane.

“These hands have never done a hard day’s work in their life.”

Kane laughed. “I don’t know, my fingers have worked pretty hard recently.”

Abby grew warm at his words and the memory of what those fingers had done to her. She looked up at him. “Maybe they need another workout?”

“Maybe they do.” He was still holding her hands and he pulled her towards him, put his arms around her waist, hands resting on her arse, pressing her to him. He bent down and kissed her, and Abby put her arms around his neck. They kissed like two teenagers, all lips and teeth and tongues, sloppy and oh so hot. Abby could feel Kane’s erection growing and she rubbed herself against it. He groaned and pushed back. They ground against each other and Abby could feel the heat rising in her sex. God she was going to come in a minute. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she moaned, and Kane thrust against her. Just another minute, just a few more seconds, she thought, and then she heard voices outside the door, and McIntyre say, “I think he was with Mrs Griffin,” and they sprang apart, looking at each other in alarm. The door handle started to turn, and Kane grabbed hold of one of Abby’s artboards and held it in front of him to hide his completely obvious and huge erection. Nothing could hide their red faces and kiss-swollen lips, though and Abby thought whomever was going to come through that door would know in an instant what they had been up to. She felt an insane urge to laugh and had to stick her nails into the palm of her hand to stop herself.

The door finally opened, and it was Doctor Jackson who entered. His face lit up when he saw Abby.

“Abby! I didn’t think you were still here.”

“I was just going through some of the prisoners’ artwork with Governor Kane,” she said.

“What do you think?” said Jackson, addressing Kane.

Kane nodded. “Definite progress is being made.”

“I’m glad you think so. It was you I came to see actually, Sir, if you have a minute?”

“Yes, yes. Can you wait in my office? I’m nearly finished with Mrs Griffin.”

Abby dug her nails even deeper into her palm she wanted to laugh so hard at his words. She was going to draw blood soon.

“Yes of course,” said Jackson. “See you soon, Abby.”

Abby smiled and nodded, and Jackson left, closing the door behind him. Abby and Kane looked at each other. “That was close,” Kane said.

“Yes. God, talk about being left high and not at all dry.”

“Sorry about that,” said Kane. He put down the artboard and walked over to her. His erection had diminished enough for it to be less noticeable. He took her in his arms and kissed her again. “I’ll have to make it up to you, finish what I’ve started.”

“When? Not now?”

“No, not now. We can’t ride our luck. Tonight?”

“Tonight is good. Do you want to come to my cottage or are we going to continue our public displays of affection? In the park perhaps,  or the high school?” Abby said with a smirk.

“What I’m going to do to you tonight I don’t think we want anyone walking in on,” he said leaning over her, eyebrows raised, and then he turned and walked out of the room leaving Abby throbbing with desire, her pulse racing, her knickers damp. The urge to drive home at breakneck speed so she could get somewhere private and relieve herself was huge, but she decided against it. Better to be in a state of anticipation for whatever he had planned.

\---

When the knock came on the door, Abby waited before answering it, even though she’d been hovering in its vicinity for the last ten minutes. It didn’t do to appear too keen; something else her mother had taught her. When he knocked a second time, she opened the door.

“Did you forget I was coming?” said Kane by way of greeting.

“No,” replied Abby as she showed him into the living room.

“I didn’t think you were going to answer the door.” Kane was dressed in the same clothes as earlier and had his briefcase with him. He put it on the table, adjusting it so that it sat perfectly parallel to the edge.

“I was just finishing up some work.” In the haze of post-sex euphoria she’d been living in since the town hall, Abby had forgotten how brusque he could be.

They stood in awkward silence, looking at each other. “Would you like a drink?” said Abby, to break the tension.

“Yes, thank you. Just a small one. I’m driving.”

So he wouldn’t be staying the night, then. At least they’d got that out of the way she supposed. Marcus Kane was something else, there was no denying it. Not a man for sentiment it would seem, but that suited her. Casual and uncomplicated; that’s what you want, she told herself. She poured them each a glass of wine, took a deep breath and returned to the living room. Kane was examining the bookshelf. Abby handed him his glass.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have taken you as a Dan Brown reader,” he said, pulling Angels and Demons out and then putting it back with a grimace.

“The books on that shelf were here when I arrived. I rented the house furnished,” Abby replied, amused that he’d given any thought to what she might read.

“Oh.”

“Would you prefer me to like Dostoevsky?”

“You can like whatever you want, although Crime and Punishment is one of the greatest novels ever written.”

“A book about what happens when your view of the world and yourself collapses under the weight of your mistakes and your guilt, and you must seek redemption but not without punishing yourself agonizingly along the way.”

Kane raised an eyebrow. “You’ve read it, then?”

“At high school. It’s a classic.”

“It is.” Kane took a sip of his wine, regarding her over the rim.

“Have you come straight from work?” said Abby, indicating his briefcase.

“Yes. I was bombarded with nothing but problems after I saw you.”

“Oh. Do you need something to eat? I could put something together.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

They were still standing in the living room and Abby didn’t know what to do to make this less awkward. They didn’t know each other, that was the trouble. He’d come around for sex, and they both knew that, but the spontaneity they’d had earlier in the prison had gone.

“Have you been painting this afternoon?” said Kane, seemingly as desperate as Abby was to force a conversation.

“No. I didn’t get around to any.” She’d spent half the afternoon in the bath pampering herself, and the other half deciding what to wear and making herself look as though she hadn’t made a huge effort, which took a lot of effort to achieve.

“Oh. It’s just you said you were working when you answered the door, so I assumed you were painting.”

“Ah.” Abby’s face grew warm. “You’ve got me there. I wasn’t working; I was waiting for you, but it’s not the done thing to let the other person know that, except now I have.” She laughed to hide her embarrassment at being caught out.

Kane put his glass on the table next to his briefcase. “You were waiting for me?” he said in a low voice.

A stab of heat shot through Abby. Here it was, that warmth in her veins, the shivers rippling through her skin.

“Yes,” she said, her own voice as low and seductive as she could make it. “I want you to finish what you started.”

Kane took a deep breath, she could see the rise and fall of his chest. “You’d better come here then,” he said. Abby put down her glass and crossed to him. He put his arms around her waist and she put hers around his neck and then they were kissing like all the earlier awkwardness hadn’t happened, and they were back in that prison room, heating each other’s blood, their bodies pressed together.

“Where’s your bedroom?” whispered Kane when they paused to catch their breath.

“Upstairs,” said Abby, and she took him by the hand and they sprinted up the stairs to her room. Kane pulled her to him again and kissed her, his tongue seeking hers. His hands were holding her head, his fingers curling into her hair. Abby stroked his cock through his pants and he groaned. Kane moved to her neck, kissing her, nipping at her skin. Abby undid the buckle on his pants, fumbled with the button, yanked his zipper down. She wanted to get at him, to feel him in her hand. She remembered the way he’d moaned when she’d touched him last time, deep and throaty, and she wanted to hear that again. He didn’t disappoint; if anything his groan was louder than before, unfettered now by the need to be quiet because they were in the privacy of her bedroom, and they could do whatever they wanted.

Kane broke off from kissing her to bend down and take off his shoes. He pushed his pants and black boxers down, stepped out of them and put them on the chair next to Abby’s bed. He stood up and his cock bounced up and down. He was still wearing his shirt and tie and it shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. Abby grabbed hold of his tie, pulled him towards her. She fell back against the bed and took Kane with her. He straddled her thighs, sat back and looked at her.

“How come I’m the only one with any clothes off?” he said.

“We can remedy that.” Abby started to unbutton her white blouse, but Kane put his hands on hers.

“Let me do it.” He undid the buttons slowly, teasing each one out of its slot, before opening her blouse to expose her white bra. He ran his thumbs over the cotton, teasing the nipples beneath into stiff peaks. He helped Abby take off her blouse and then he leaned in to kiss the swell of her breasts while he eased the straps of her bra down, freeing her. Abby reached behind to undo the back and discarded the bra on the floor. Kane took a nipple into his mouth, sucked on it and moaned. His cock was pressing into Abby’s groin; her skirt had ridden up so there was only the thin material of her knickers between her and it. She wriggled beneath him, arched herself so the tip of him nudged against her sex, pushing her underwear in.

“Naughty,” he said.

“I want you,” she moaned.

“I want you, but I want to taste you first, all of you.” He reached behind her and undid the zipper on her skirt, pulling it down over her ankles. Just her knickers were left then, and he put his hand on them, bent to kiss her stomach, working his way down until he was at the waistband of her pants. He eased them down, his mouth trailing after, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. When she was completely naked he sat back again, undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and took them off. He had such a strong chest, broad shoulders, and a slim waist. He stared at Abby, and then he started at the top again and kissed his way down from her breasts to her stomach, before finally, finally, spreading her lips with his thumbs and putting his mouth on her.

Abby convulsed at the touch, she’d been desiring it so much. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, that’s so good.”

“Mmmm,” said Kane. He licked her so lightly Abby was squirming beneath him, trying to press up against his tongue but he moved away every time, only putting his mouth on her again when she lay quiet.

“I should have known you’d be a bastard,” she said, and Kane’s laugh sent vibrations through her sex.

He was good with his tongue, responding to her moans, her occasional directions. He spent some time lapping at her entrance, dipping his tongue in and out, and his nose rubbed against her clit and Abby thought for a moment she was going to come just from that she was so heated. He groaned as he slipped a finger inside her, then another.

“So hot,” he said, and then his tongue was on her clit, circling it, increasing the pressure, and she was crying at him not to stop as the heat built up and it was so good, so, so good, she wanted to stay like that with her whole sex warm and her brain starting to buzz but no, it was happening, she was coming and coming and Kane was moaning while he lapped up all her juices.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark, his normally pale cheeks warm from his efforts. “Good?” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” said Abby.

Kane grinned, and then he positioned himself at her entrance, and looked at her as he pushed inside. He braced himself above her, the muscles in his arms taut as wires, and fucked her slowly at first. Abby wrapped her legs around his back, put her hands on his arse and they moved together in a steady rhythm. His breathing quickened as he increased his speed, and Abby bucked her hips to get him as deep as she could because it felt amazing, her whole body connected to his. She knew he was going to come because his thrusts increased and he lost his rhythm, and she squeezed him as hard as she could. He came with a loud cry. “Fuck!” he said, the only word he’d uttered since he’d made her come.

He rolled off her and they lay on their backs panting. “You’re so hot,” Kane said. “So sexy.”

Abby didn’t know what to say to that, so she curled towards him and laid her hand on his chest, letting it rise and fall with his ragged breaths.

“That was fantastic,” she said, and Kane laughed.

“End of round one,” he said, and another flush of heat ran through Abby at the thought of what else they were going to do.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all afternoon,” said Abby.

“I know. I had so many meetings, and all I could think about was you. I can’t remember half of what I’ve agreed to today.” He laughed.

“It was worth the wait.”

Kane turned towards her, took her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly. “It was.” He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just down the hall on the right.”

Kane got up and left the room. Abby curled into a ball, thought back over the last hour. His tongue, wow. Her clit throbbed at the memory of it. Very possibly the best oral sex she’d ever had, especially for a first time with someone. He paid attention to every part of her sex, and every sound she made. It was only going to get better if they carried on with this, got to know each other more.

“Abby?” Kane’s voice carried from down the hall.

Abby sat up. “Yes?”

“Do you have a spare towel?”

“Just use the one on the rail, it’s okay.”

“Erm, I’d rather use a fresh one if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. They’re in the tall cabinet.” That was odd. Was it odd? She never had a problem using other peoples’ towels when she visited their houses. They were only for drying hands. Everyone was different she supposed, and he was obviously someone who liked order, the tea at specific times of day, the report with its tabs and highlights, and the way he put his briefcase so neatly on the table told her that. It was a small thing, inconsequential.

Kane returned to the room and any thoughts Abby had about his quirks flew out of the window as she watched him saunter in. He was tall and slim but muscular. His abdominal muscles were defined, not like a body builder, but enough to lead the eye down to his cock, which was soft now, but still long, and heavy. No wonder he walked with a swagger. Did he work out? He must do, but she couldn’t imagine it somehow, she couldn’t see him bench-pressing or lunging. Maybe he was a runner. She should ask him, but would that be presumptuous?

“Have you seen enough?” said Kane, and Abby jumped at the sound of his voice, and her face grew warm for the second time that night. She looked up to see him smirking at her.

“Well if you will come in here looking like that,” she said, deciding there was no point denying her blatant ogling.

Kane stretched and breathed in and his abdominal muscles drew tight, his pecs popped, and she could see his ribs. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, then he grabbed Abby’s legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He took her hands and brought her to her feet so she was pressed against him. “You’re the hot one,” he said, and his hands roamed her back, tracing her sharp bones and tight muscles. He reached her arse, his fingers gripping her cheeks, and then before she knew what was happening he had lifted her. Abby wrapped her legs around him, put her arms around his neck for support. He turned and pressed her against the wall. His cock was only semi-hard, but he rubbed it between Abby’s lips, coating it with her juice and soon he was sliding up over her clit and down again and Abby was getting warmer and warmer.

“I liked doing this earlier,” he murmured. “When we were in the prison.” He captured her lips with his before she could reply, and the kiss was searching and deep, tasting of her and the spice of the red wine they’d drunk earlier. Abby was moaning loudly now, grinding against Kane, and he was moving faster and faster until her grip on his back tightened, her fingers pressing into his flesh and she was coming. God, how was this so hot? Kane stopped moving and held her against the wall, his damp forehead touching hers. He was breathing heavily.

“Wow, thank you,” said Abby when he finally withdrew from her and set her down.

“My pleasure,” Kane said. He let out a deep sigh. “I could do with a drink.”

“I’m not sure I can walk,” said Abby. Her sex was throbbing, and she knew if she reached down and touched herself she would be tender from the power of his thrusts.

“I’ll go,” said Kane and he kissed her forehead before leaving the room again.

Abby walked gingerly over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Was that round two, or just an appetiser? She wasn’t sure she could manage round three, not without some recovery time. Kane returned a couple of minutes later with their half-empty glasses of wine and the bottle.

“Didn’t know if you’d want a top-up,” he said.

“You can stay, if you want,” said Abby, in case he was just being polite earlier when he said he was driving.

“Oh,” said Kane as he took a sip of his drink. “It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s just, I have an early start tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I understand.” Abby interrupted him before he had to make up some other excuse. It was too soon, only their second time, his first time visiting her house. She shouldn’t have asked.

“McIntyre told me you sometimes work at the high school,” Kane said, obviously trying to deflect from the awkwardness of her question.

“Yes. I substitute teach when I get the opportunity. It’s fun. The kids are really great, most of them.”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure I’d class them as great. I’ve seen far too many of them through my prison over the years.”

“Some of them are challenging, yes, but that’s what’s good about it, and art is very therapeutic, as you now know.”

Kane raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I can concede that.”

“That’s big of you,” said Abby replying to his raised eyebrow with one of her own. Kane smiled. “So, how’s your campaign going?” she said.

“It’s only been a few days, but I have a plan, and it’s on course so far.”

Abby settled back against her pillow as Kane talked about his campaign. She was glad of the break, of the time to rest and recover, because she wanted to do a little exploration of his body before he left, and she wasn’t ready yet.

“So, are you ready for round three?” she said when they reached a lull in their conversation.

“That’s to the point,” said Kane with a smile. “What happened to round two?”

“Isn’t that what we did before?”

“I suppose it could be. Do you have something in mind?”

“I might do.”

“I’m all yours,” he said, gesturing to his body.

“Good.” Abby straddled him and leant forward to kiss him. “I want to know what you like,” she whispered.

Kane fondled her breasts as they dangled over him, tweaking her nipples between finger and thumb. “I like you,” he said. “Everything about you.”

“Hmmm, yes, but I’m talking about what your body likes.”

“My body likes you too.” He shifted so that his cock pressed against her stomach, pulsing as the blood rushed to it.

Abby ignored him, and proceeded to run her hands over his chest, thumbing his nipples into peaks. Kane moaned, and she bent her head to them, sucked them. He put his hands in her hair, pressed her to him. So he was sensitive there? She lifted her head to look at him. He was laid back on the pillow, his eyes closed. Abby traced the firm muscles in his arms, down over his veins to his soft hands that had never done any hard work, to his fingers, which were long and slim. He closed his hands over hers, pushing up against her, and she pushed back, holding him at bay while she bent to kiss his stomach, follow the fine trail of hairs down and down to the root of his cock. It jumped when she kissed it, and Kane let out a long moan.

Abby let go of his hands, settled further down his thighs so she could get her hands around his cock. She played with it every way she knew how, trying to discern what he liked the most. She used a single fist, applying pressure on different parts of his cock to see what brought the greatest moan from him. He moaned at everything. She switched to alternating fists, sliding from the base to the tip, and this drew a groan. The faster she moved the louder he groaned until her hands were almost a blur, and he put his own hands on hers to still her.

“Stop, stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. God, nothing at all. It’s just. I don’t want to come, not yet.”

“You like it fast, like that?” she asked.

“Only at the end.”

“Let me make you come.” She started to massage him again, but he stopped her.

“You can, but I want you to be fucking me when you do it, okay? Fuck me, Abby.”

Abby took a deep breath. She leaned forward, kissed him again. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.” She took him in her hand and positioned herself so she could sink down on him. Kane let out a loud sigh. He put his hands on her arse to guide her, but Abby removed them. “No. I’m doing the work.” Kane folded his pillow so he could lie back but also watch her, and Abby bent over him, letting her hair cover his chest while she kissed his nipples so she wouldn’t have to look at his dark eyes gazing into hers while she found her rhythm.

She moved slowly at first, squeezing him, angling him until he hit a spot that felt good to her too. His hands moved to her arse again and she grabbed them and put them over his head, holding them there so he couldn’t move. She put her hands flat on his to brace herself and then fucked him with everything she had, building the momentum until she was working as hard and as fast as she could and Kane’s cries were loud. He thrust up into her as he came. Abby released her grip on him, sat back and stroked her clit while he was still inside her. Kane watched her through half-lidded eyes, and it turned her on so much it only took a few strokes for her to come. She flopped forward onto him and he rolled them so they were side by side and they kissed.

“That was amazing! It’s a good job we didn’t do that in the town hall,” said Kane. “Everyone would have heard us.”

“I’m amazed they didn’t anyway.” Abby rolled onto her back. She was spent; every ounce of energy she had left had gone. She didn’t think she could move again for the rest of the night, but somehow Kane had to drive home. She had no idea where he lived, but she hoped he didn’t have to drive far. He lay by her side, stroking her arm, but he was tense, she could feel it. He probably wanted to get going before it was too late but couldn’t do it until the polite amount of time had passed. Abby was tired, so she decided to save him the embarrassment. She yawned, stretched her arms and legs.

“Are you tired?” said Kane, turning towards her.

“Yes. That was exhausting. Fun, but exhausting.”

“I should go,” he said. “Let you get some rest.”

“Yes, okay. If you want.”

Kane gathered his clothes together and disappeared to her bathroom. While he was gone Abby searched out a t-shirt she wore to bed and pulled on her knickers. Kane came back suited up, his olive skin and his firm muscles covered up, but now she knew they were under there, and she’d never look at him the same way again.

“I’ll let you out,” Abby said.

Kane followed her down the stairs and picked up his briefcase. “I’ll see you again.”

Abby wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement. “I’ll be at the prison on Thursday.”

“Yes, I know, but I meant in a private capacity.” He ran a hand through his hair while he looked at her.

“You mean you want to fuck again?”

“If you put it like that.”

“Just text me. I’ll let you know if I’m available.” She gave him her best raised eyebrow smirk, and Kane smiled before kissing her lips and then disappearing out of the door. Abby locked up and then ran back upstairs to her bed. She pulled the covers over and went to sleep thinking about their night together, sore and tired, but happy.


	6. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane receives a disturbing letter, and he and Abby learn more about each other

The Monday after Kane had come around unexpectedly and they’d fucked against her door, Abby started her teaching stint at the high school. It was two one-hour classes either side of lunch, so she had no choice but to mingle with the other teachers, which would be fine because she liked most of them, but it meant putting up with Diana Sydney’s constant attentions. In an effort to avoid that as best she could, Abby ate lunch in the cafeteria. She sat at a table with Jordan and Green, two of her funniest students, and listened to their tall tales while forking the world’s most boring salad into her mouth. The boys were eating fat burgers, the juice dripping down their fingers, and paused in their chewing only to stuff handfuls of chips, as the British called fries, between their grease-smeared lips. Abby watched with a primal desire in her belly. She’d give anything to be eating a burger now, a wagyu ramen burger from Tatsu in LA , oh how nice would that be? She could picture herself biting into the crispy noodle buns, the soft-boiled egg yolk oozing out and coating her lips, and then oh, the rich, buttery taste of the beef.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Abby looked up, startled at the sound of Green’s voice. “I’m sorry?” 

“You moaned.”

“Did I? I was thinking about food.”

“Are you sure that’s what you were thinking about?” Jordan sniggered and nudged Green who raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Sadly, yes. I was envious of your burger.”

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I’ve gone vegetarian,” Abby replied, which wasn’t the truth, but she wasn’t going to tell these boys she was trying to keep in shape because she was getting naked three times a week with the town’s mayoral candidate.

“Are you craving some meat, Miss?” said Green, his eyes wide and innocent.

“You can have mine if you like, Miss,” said Jordan, giving Abby what he probably thought was a smouldering look.

Abby fought hard not to laugh. “I’ll pass,” she said, “but thank you.”

“Miss….” Jordan started to say something to Abby and then he looked behind her and frowned before nudging Green. Both boys got to their feet and were gone before Abby could speak. She turned to look behind her and somehow kept a neutral face even though her heart was sinking. Diana Sydney was standing there, and there was double trouble because she had that odious man, Mayor Jaha with her. What the hell was he doing at the high school?

“Diana, Mayor Jaha, how nice to see you.”

“I told you to call me Thelonious, Abigail,” said Jaha, and he took Abby’s hand and kissed it, which Abby thought was presumptuous and rude. She removed her hand as quickly as she could.

“Abigail is it?” said Diana as she took a seat opposite Abby. She had a burger too and Abby was suddenly glad of her boring salad. “I thought you preferred Abby?”

Damn her and her snide smile and her over-made-up face and her too-tight blouse! Nothing escaped the woman’s attention.

“Do you?” said Jaha, as he slid into the seat next to Abby.

“It depends on the situation,” said Abby, with her own fake smile plastered to her face.

“So you don’t mind if I call you Abby, then?” Jaha had a bowl of anaemic-looking mac and cheese, and the pasta wobbled on his fork like a fat grub newly birthed. Abby looked away as the fork made its way to Jaha’s mouth. She pushed her salad to one side, her appetite gone. 

“Not at all,” she said. She looked at her watch; half an hour before her next class was to start. She calculated how long she could sit here for politeness before making an excuse and leaving. Would a minute cut it? No. Five maybe. God, that was a lifetime.

“I heard you were working at the prison, Abby?” said Jaha.

“That’s right.” She didn’t expand on her answer; let him work hard for his information.

“Governor Kane has you on the payroll.” The way Jaha said it made it sound dirty, underhand somehow. Diana paused mid bite from her burger and looked at Abby and Jaha, a frown on her face. This was news to her it seemed.

“I’m being paid for the work I do, yes.”

“Oh, I thought your sessions were voluntary,” said Diana.

“A girl has to eat.”

“Kane could probably pay you out of his own money, rather than wasting Government resources. It’s not as if he’s short of cash.” Diana ate a chip while staring at Abby, as though she was daring her to respond. What was wrong with these people? Why did they have so much animosity towards Kane? It must be jealousy. He was successful, confident and handsome. He could probably do anything he turned his hand to. A man like that would be a target for people like Jaha and Diana.

“That would be unethical,” said Abby, and Jaha and Diana exchanged a look she didn’t understand. “I would have to disagree that my project is a waste of resources. We are already seeing positive outcomes for the participants.”

“I’m sure everyone’s getting what they want out of it,” said Diana.

Abby plastered a smile to her face and thought about how she had a week of this to endure, and she couldn’t see Kane because he was away at a conference until Thursday night. She decided to try and change the subject.

“Are you here for a visit, Thelonious? I didn’t know you were involved with the school.”

“I am on the board of governors, Chair, actually,” he said with some pride.

“I see.”

“But I’m here to investigate a problem with the school’s information technology. That’s what I do.”

“You’re an IT technician?”

“No!” Jaha looked aghast at her suggestion. IT technician was clearly too lowly a post for him. “I supplied the infrastructure and the software. I’m a software engineer. Very successful.”

“Oh.” Abby thought she was supposed to look suitably impressed but in truth the only computer she owned was the one in her smartphone. Her gallery in LA had been on the internet, but she’d employed someone to deal with that. She preferred real things, tangible things, the scratch of her pen on paper, the smell of paints, her fingers sticky and rainbow-coloured at the end of a frantic painting session. Digital art could never compete with that.

“I have my own company,” said Jaha, still trying to impress her.

“That’s great.”

“Perhaps you would like to come and see it one day. It’s in Lancaster, very modern building. I could show you around, have some lunch.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I’ll have to take a rain check. I don’t have any spare time in the foreseeable future.”

“Well, here’s my card, when you do have time.” Jaha slid a business card towards her and Abby caught Diana rolling her eyes as she took it.

“Thank you.” Abby took this as her chance to escape, and stood up, pushing her chair back. “I must go and prepare for my lesson. It was lovely to see you, Thelonious. Diana.” She nodded at them and left before they could say anything more.

She got through the rest of the week without having to see Jaha or Diana again and enjoyed her classes like she always did. She didn’t think she was cut out to teach full time but connecting up with the students a few times a year, showing them a different perspective to their usual lessons gave her a sense of accomplishment.

Kane hadn’t texted to say he was back, but they weren’t in an official relationship, so he was under no obligation to inform her of his whereabouts and if she wanted to see him she could text him herself. She resolved to do that if he hadn’t got in touch by Saturday morning.

Friday afternoon came around and Abby had only been back from the high school half an hour when she received a text from Kane. It was short and blunt as always.

_Where are you? I need to see you._

_I just got home. Do you want to come around?_

_No. Can you come to me?_

_At the prison?_

_No, at home._

He texted her the address and Abby stood in her kitchen and scrolled through their conversation. He’d never invited her to his house before so this was a new development. His tone was terse as usual, and she couldn’t tell if he was simply desperate to see her or if there was something wrong. She frowned, worried her lower lip. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, and she tried to dismiss it but it stayed with her while she grabbed a quick shower and changed into jeans and a blue shirt. She put the postcode into her phone’s satnav and it said it would take her forty minutes to get to Kane’s house. It was right on the coast, in the middle of a pale brown expanse of nothing, at the end of a road that led nowhere. Okay then.

Abby drove through the town, out past the prison and on into the countryside. Villages became hamlets and hamlets became scattered houses until she was driving a mile and then two miles between habitations. It struck her how far Kane drove every time he visited her. Spending half the night in bed with her then driving forty minutes through this wild, twisting countryside to his own bed. How was he not permanently exhausted? She tried to imagine what his house would look like; he was a man of habit, traditional in many ways, old-fashioned, although everything in Britain was quaint and old-fashioned to Abby’s American eyes. She imagined something stone-built and imposing, designed to dominate the landscape and intimidate. She was more excited than she’d like to admit at the thought of seeing where he lived, his decoration, what he chose to surround himself with. A home always revealed a person’s true nature.

As her destination neared she found herself on a single-track road with passing places. The road had a good surface, but it was winding and narrow. Her speed slowed to twenty miles an hour in places and the last few miles of the journey seemed to take most of the travel time. She was surrounded by moorland, glowing orange and purple in the late September sun, but she imagined it must be bleak in winter, or when it rained, or snowed, or probably most of the time. Broken dry stone walls divided one section of moor from another, and sheep dotted the hills like wisps of white smoke. She was climbing uphill and her old Volvo was protesting, its engine whining. She had her foot to the floor, but it produced no response, and at one point she was worried she might start going backwards. At last she topped the hill and the Irish sea appeared in the near distance as if from nowhere, startling her, gun-metal grey in the evening light, and stretching for miles, all the way to Ireland, and beyond that the Atlantic, and home. There was a small parking place with a viewpoint at the apex of the hill and Abby pulled in for a second just to look across the miles to her birthplace. Would she ever go home again other than for a visit? She didn’t know.

She set off again and the road straightened. She drove maybe half a mile, the target on her phone getting closer and closer. “Your destination is on the right,” said the satnav, and Abby looked ahead to a grey metal gate. She was about to get out of her car to open it when a whirring noise broke the silence and the gate swung open. She drove through the gate, along a driveway whose pebbles crunched in a satisfying way beneath her tyres. As she pulled up behind Kane’s classic green Aston Martin she got her first glimpse of his house. It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

She got out of her car and looked up at the house. It was modern, one and a half storeys with flat lines and huge windows that must give an amazing view of the moorland and the sea, and a sloping slate roof set with smaller windows. Longer than it was wide it reminded Abby of a barn, but no animals had ever been housed here. It looked brand new, and was somehow both imposing and unassuming, an enigma, like its owner.

A sliding door opened, and Kane came out onto the patio. He stood with arms folded, watching her as she gazed at the building and its surroundings. He was dressed casually in a black round-necked jumper and black jeans. A gust of wind caught his hair, ruffling it. He mustn’t have gelled it, because a curl flopped down in his eye and he pushed it away. Abby had never seen him in anything other than a suit, well, apart from naked of course, and he looked slim and athletic, and even more handsome. Her breath caught in her throat.

“You found it okay, then?” he said.

“I did wonder if I was going to end up in the sea.” Abby laughed.

“You will if you go any further.”

“Trust you to live at the end of the world.”

Kane raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile. Abby’s belly churned again like it had been doing most of the journey. “Is everything alright?” she said.

“Why don’t you come inside.” Kane turned and went through the doors and Abby followed. Inside was as modern as the outside, open plan with a sitting room at one end of the long room and a kitchen at the other. The floor was polished wood, and the kitchen fittings and the dining table were all the same light oak. A curved wooden staircase led to the upper floor. The walls were cream and fresh, and nothing was out of place. It could have been clinical, but the wood had a honeyed warmth, and the sofas were large and plump and the colour of an old wine stain. Abby was surprised to see modern art lining the walls. Kane gestured to one of the sofas and Abby sat down while he put a log in the wood-burning stove.

“Would you like a drink? I’m having a drink,” he said, and Abby nodded.

He came back after a moment balancing two large glasses and a bottle of Tempranillo. He gave Abby a coaster with a bird carved into it and she took a sip of her wine before setting her glass down.

“What’s going on, Kane?”

His face contorted into myriad shapes while he contemplated her, and he bit the corner of his lip. He took a large draught of his wine. “I’ve had a letter,” he said.

“A letter?” Abby couldn’t think why he’d be so concerned about a letter, or what it might have to do with her.

“It’s a, well I’m not sure what you’d call it. Maybe you’d better read it yourself.” He opened a file that was lying on the table and took out a letter from a plastic folder. He handed it to Abby. She took it, feeling as though she was being shown evidence in a criminal case. She half expected to see dusted fingerprints on the paper.

The letter was typed, although it had been printed from a computer not a typewriter and addressed to Kane in a formal manner with his address and yesterday’s date in the top left corner. There was no sender’s address. She scanned the body of the letter.

_Dear Councillor Kane,_

_We have evidence of you behaving in a manner that is unbefitting of a man in public office. These offences refer to your relationship with Mrs Griffin who like you has abused her authority and in both cases your behaviour amounts to a breach of your safeguarding duties. We are sure that neither of you would wish your employers to know about what you have been doing. If you withdraw your candidacy from the mayoral election no one need find out._

_Yours sincerely,_

_A Friend_

Abby read it through a second time because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then looked at Kane. “What the hell?”

“It was on the doormat when I got home tonight. The postmark says it was posted yesterday in Lancaster.” He opened the file again and took out an envelope and showed it to her. Abby glanced at it and nodded. Kane put the envelope back in its plastic folder.

“It’s a blackmail letter,” Abby said. “Why would anyone want to blackmail you, or me, it’s crazy?”

“It must be someone who doesn’t want me to be mayor.”

“There’s only one person who benefits from you not being mayor and that’s Jaha.”

Kane shook his head. “I can’t see it. Jaha would find it much more satisfying to beat me.”

Abby looked at the letter again. “They claim they have evidence of us behaving inappropriately. What evidence?”

“There can’t be any evidence,” said Kane. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Exactly. We’re consenting adults and we’re both single.” As she said that Abby had a sudden realisation that she knew next to nothing about Kane. They’d deliberately kept things simple and that meant not asking questions. “You are single, right?”

“Yes. I’m divorced. It was a long time ago.” He took the letter from Abby and put it back in the folder.

“It’s just someone trying to make trouble,” said Abby, sitting back in her chair. “An ex-prisoner perhaps.”

“How would they know about us?”

Abby rolled her eyes at his naivety. “Everyone knows about us. Your car is outside my place three times a week. It’s a distinctive car.”

“I suppose. Nothing to worry about then?”

“No. It could be anything, and there’s no detail is there? People in this town are always fishing for information. They’ve just cast a line and they’re hoping to land you.”

“Okay.” Kane visibly relaxed. He put another log on the fire. Outside the sun was sinking, setting the ocean ablaze. It would be dark soon.

“You have a beautiful view,” said Abby in an attempt to lift the mood. She was concerned about the letter. It wasn’t the contents, which she thought were a fishing attempt like she’d said to Kane, it was the fact that anyone would send something like that to another person. It was a cowardly thing to do, mean-spirited, and it was hard to think that someone she might know was responsible.

“I find it soothing after a difficult day,” said Kane, and Abby dismissed the letter from her mind. Life was too short to let other people influence what she thought and did.

“I love it.” She finished her glass of wine and set it down on the coaster.

“Would you like some more wine?” Kane picked up the bottle and moved to pour Abby another glass.

Abby put her hand over the top of her glass. “I’d better not. I think I’ve already drunk more than I should for driving, especially on these roads.”

Kane put the bottle back on the placemat. He was silent, but he was thinking something over, Abby could tell from the small movements his eyebrows made as he debated with himself. He looked at her. “You could stay. If you like.”

Abby smiled inwardly. It had taken some effort for him to ask her that. She wasn’t sure why; perhaps he wasn’t used to someone else here with him, messing up his things, using his towels, leaving hairs on his pillow, in his bed, or maybe it was the letter, playing on his mind. Whatever the reason she was glad he’d asked. She wasn’t keen on driving home in the dark after a large glass of wine; she might end up on closer terms with the Irish sea than she would like. “Sure,” she said casually. “That would be great.”

Kane nodded. “I could make up the bed in the spare room.”

“Oh, the spare room?” Abby frowned. He didn’t want her to sleep with him? This was unexpected. What was he playing at?

“It’s no trouble.”

“Do you not have a double bed?”

“Of course I have a double bed.” Kane poured more of the wine into Abby’s glass and this time she didn’t stop him.

“Is there something in your bedroom you don’t want me to see? Do you have naked lady pictures on your walls or, oh, do you collect dolls, teddy bears? There’s an entire shelf in your room lined with Paddington Bears isn’t there?” Abby raised an eyebrow at Kane and he laughed.

“There’s nothing like that in my bedroom.”

“So you just don’t want to sleep with me?”

“What? Yes, I want to sleep with you, if you want to sleep with me.”

“I do. Why the spare room then? Are you going to turf me out after we have sex?” Abby picked up her wine, took a large sip, watching Kane over the top of her glass.

“No, no. I.” Kane put a hand to his head, ran his fingers through his hair. He was flustered, and Abby was enjoying his discomfort. “I just. I didn’t want to presume.”

“We’ve been fucking for over a month now; we’ve done all sorts of things to each other, but you can’t ask me to stay the night with you in your bed.” Abby shook her head, but she was smiling.

Kane shrugged. “I suppose I thought it was impolite.”

“You’re so British.”

“You like that,” he said with a smirk.

“I do, except when you beat around a whole forest of bushes to get to your point.”

“We have manners.”

“Hmm. Well luckily we Americans are not so polite, and I’m going to demonstrate that now by saying I’m starving. Do you have any food?”

“Oh, er, I’m not sure what I have. Let me see.” Kane got up and went over to the kitchen and Abby followed him, taking her drink with her. Kane opened an enormous fridge and rummaged around in it. “I have eggs, cheese, potatoes. I could make a Spanish Omelette.”

“Is that like a tortilla?”

Kane shrugged. “It’s an omelette with things in it.”

“I know. That’s a tortilla. Okay, that sounds great.”

Kane pulled the ingredients out of the fridge, arranged them on the centre island. “I take it you won’t want any meat in it?”

“Why not?”

“I heard you were vegetarian.”

Abby put down her glass and Kane grabbed a coaster and placed it underneath. “Where did you hear that?”

“Monty Green told his mother and she told McIntyre’s mother and McIntyre told me this morning.”

“Oh! Small towns. I forgot how quickly news can fly. I’m surprised you listen to gossip, though.”

Kane took out a board from a drawer in the island and picked a knife from the block. He started chopping an onion. “I’m the governor of a prison and I’m running for Mayor. Information is vital to my success in both roles.”

Abby wondered if he would try and find out who had written the letter. Probably. She doubted he would be able to help himself. She didn’t want to bring it up because they had wasted enough time on it and she wanted a nice evening with good food, great wine, hot sex with a hot man, and whatever the morning would bring. “Can I help at all?” she said as Kane peeled and thinly sliced potatoes.

He looked up from his chopping. “I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“What about a salad? I could make a salad.”

He looked for a moment like she’d suggested boiling his firstborn child. Was it that hard for him to let someone even a tiny bit into his life?

“Erm, yes, if you like, okay.”

Abby moved behind Kane, opened the fridge. “Do you have any arugula?”

“What’s that?”

“Salad leaves.”

“There’s maybe some iceberg lettuce in the salad drawer.”

Abby pulled out a ball of pale limp watery-looking lettuce. She showed it to Kane. “Tell me you don’t eat this?”

Kane smiled. “Not often, hence the limpness.”

“One day I’m going to take you out for proper food,” she said as she pulled out capsicums, tomatoes, celery and half a red onion from his salad drawer. What the hell was she supposed to do with these?

“You’re going to take me out?” said Kane as she pushed past him with her arms full of crappy salad ingredients. “On a date?”

Abby stood opposite Kane and unloaded the vegetables onto the countertop. “I’ll have to if I want to eat properly.” She pulled a knife from his knife block. “Would you come?”

“How can I say no when you’re brandishing a knife at me?”

“That’s true.” Abby laughed. She took hold of the celery, raised her knife to cut it.

“Woah!” said Kane. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You can’t chop on the countertop.”

“Why not? It’s what it’s for.”

“No. I have a board. Hang on.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a square board made of olive wood. It was beautiful, polished and shiny.

“This is nicer than your countertop!”

“Maybe, but it’s purpose is to be a chopping board.”

“Well what is the countertop for then?”

“It’s to hold the boards that hold the vegetables.” He stared at her blankly and for a second Abby didn’t know what he was thinking, and then creases appeared at the edges of his eyes, and his mouth turned up in a half smile. Abby returned the smirk.

“Have you ever done anything else on it?”

“Such as?” Kane paused with his knife in hand and looked at her with a penetrating gaze, his dark eyes twinkling. Abby raised her eyebrows in response. “Not on this countertop,” said Kane. “It’s unspoiled.”

“Maybe we’ll have to change that.” Abby bit into a cherry tomato and wiped the juice off her lip with her thumb while she regarded Kane.

“Maybe we will,” he said, but he didn’t sound convincing. He was probably thinking about germs and whether she would let him spray the top with disinfectant during the sex as well as before and after.

“Not tonight, though. Tonight we’re trying out your bed.” She looked up at him and he smiled at her.

They continued their preparations and soon the kitchen filled with the aroma of frying onions and potatoes. Kane sprinkled the cheese on the omelette and then put it in the oven. Abby made a dressing with balsamic vinegar and other items she found in Kane’s immaculately arranged cupboards. They stood next to each other and clinked glasses.

“How long until it’s ready?” said Abby.

“Twenty minutes roughly.”

“Twenty minutes, huh?”

They looked at each other. Abby placed her glass on the chopping board and Kane did the same. He took her hand and led her up the curved wooden staircase to a room on the far left of a long landing. Night had fallen, and the room was lit only by the waxing moon. Abby stripped off her boots and her jeans and underwear, pulled her top over her head, unclasped her bra and let the whole lot fall on the floor. Kane was already out of his clothes and he jumped on the bed and pulled her on top of him. He put his hands on her arse, pressed her to him. His cock was pulsing against Abby’s sex. She lay flat against him and kissed him, her hands holding his face. The kiss was heated, frantic. Abby rubbed herself against him and they both moaned. They rolled around the bed and Abby ended up on her back. She wrapped her legs around Kane and he pushed inside her. She grabbed his arse, forcing him deeper, harder, faster.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” she said, and he did, silently except for his groans and his laboured breaths. He was erratic with his thrusts, not hitting any of the good spots so she tried to turn them, but he was too heavy. “I want to be on top,” she said, and he opened his eyes to look at her before flipping them so she could straddle him. She sat up straight, angled herself to just the right spot. Oh, this was better. She rode him as fast as she could, building up the pressure in them both. He reached out and stroked her clit, but she hardly needed the extra stimulation because she was coming and coming, God it felt good. She dropped forward, her hands on his chest and he grabbed her breasts, thumbing her nipples, his groans becoming cries as he exploded inside her. Abby collapsed panting on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her. They lay like that for a minute, getting their breaths back. Then she rolled off him.

“Fuck that was good,” she said.

“It was.” Kane reached across, laid his hand on her stomach, caressed her.

An unfamiliar noise seeped into her consciousness, a loud beeping, the incessant sound of it invading their space, confusing Abby for a moment. “What’s that?”

“Shit, it’s the timer.” Kane leapt out of bed and ran down the stairs naked. Abby got dressed, not bothering with her bra. She gathered up Kane’s jumper and pants and took them downstairs. He was pulling the omelette out of the oven. It was crispy at the edges but otherwise unharmed.

“Here’s your clothes,” she said, handing them to him.

“Thanks, I won’t be a minute.” He disappeared into another hallway off the kitchen and through a door at the far end. When he came back a minute later he was dressed, and his hair was brushed. He smiled at her. “Are you hungry?”

Abby laughed. “I’m ravenous.”

Kane put the pan on a trivet on the oak table and got plates and cutlery from the cupboard. Abby padded over to the sitting area to retrieve the wine bottle. She poured them both a glass. Kane sat at the end of the table and Abby sat at right angles to him. They clinked glasses.

“Cheers,” said Abby.

“Sláinte,” replied Kane.

“what does that mean?”

“It’s Scottish for good health.”

“Oh. Sláinte, then,” replied Abby.

Kane cut into the tortilla and put a slice on Abby’s plate.

“Oh, crap, I forgot the salad.” Abby retrieved the salad from the countertop and they helped themselves. She took a bite of the tortilla. It was buttery and peppery and warming. “It’s so good,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Kane.

They ate in silence for a while. There were a million things Abby wanted to say. She wanted to ask him about his ex-wife, his divorce, how long he’d lived in this house, whether he’d lived here with her, did they have kids? There were no pictures of children on display in the rooms she’d been in, but then there were no personal pictures at all, just art and some large-framed black and white landscape photographs. She stared out of the window but all she could see was their reflections. It was a domestic scene, cosy in the soft orange glow of the uplighters. It made butterflies flutter in Abby’s stomach. She was happy, she realised, and the thought scared her, because she wasn’t supposed to be happy in that way, wasn’t supposed to be getting butterflies, wasn’t supposed to be falling for him. She saw reflection Kane’s head turn and she refocused her eyes to see the flesh and blood version looking at her.

“What are you thinking?” he said.

“Nothing,” said Abby. “Just drifting away a little.”

“Are you getting tired?”

“No, it’s not that.”

He gazed at her in that way he had, looking deep inside her. “Things are getting complicated,” he said, reading her thoughts yet again.

“A little.”

“For me too.” He looked down at his food, pronged a piece of celery with his fork and ate it.

Abby wasn’t sure if things were getting complicated for him in the same way they were for her. He’d said he’d understood her need for her life to be simple, that he wanted it that way too. Had things changed for him as well? She had to know.

“What are we doing, Kane?”

“Living each day as it comes,” he replied, and he reached out and covered her hand with his. “And enjoying it.”

Abby laced her fingers through his. “Okay,” she said, and her smile to him was casual, cheeky, but the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering their gossamer wings, and her heart was pounding, her pulse racing. She took a large swig of her wine, but it did nothing to quell the turmoil.

After dinner they cleared the table, put the pots in the dishwasher. Kane washed the omelette pan, left it to dry. He went to his wine rack and pulled out a couple of bottles, looking at their labels. “Shall we be daring, have another bottle?”

“Why not. It’s Saturday tomorrow. No school, no prison.”

“What would you like?”

“Do you have any Californian wine?”

“Er, no. It’s mostly European and I think I have some Australian Shiraz.”

“Let’s go with that then.”

Kane took the bottle over to the sitting room and Abby followed with the glasses. Kane put a couple of logs on the dying fire and it roared back into life. “Best thing about this place,” he said. He took his seat on the sofa, clearly expecting Abby to sit on her own sofa but she had other ideas.

She hovered over him. “Scoot over,” she said, and Kane looked at her with a frown. “I want to sit next to you, not way over there on my own.”

“Oh, okay.” He moved to the other end of his sofa and Abby plonked down next to him. Kane opened the wine, poured them another glass and settled back into the sofa. Abby turned so that her back was against the arm rest and put her legs up so that her feet were resting on his knees. Kane looked at her, startled.

“They’re only feet,” she said. “They’re in socks.”

“Yes,” he said, looking uncomfortable. Abby understood his condition, mostly, but he took it a long way sometimes. How he could put his mouth on her sex with great enthusiasm but be uncomfortable with her socked feet on his legs she didn’t know. She didn’t say that to him, though, because it was a thing with him that he’d never discussed with her, not directly, and she didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. She decided to make him uncomfortable in another way, by asking him personal questions.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Here in this house, or in this area?”

“Both I guess.”

“I’ve been in the house eight years.”

“Eight years?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, it seems brand new.”

Kane smiled, held his nose in the air proudly. “It was new at the time. I designed it myself.”

“It’s really beautiful. You have great taste.”

“I do,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Abby smiled. She felt something warm against the bare skin that was showing beneath her trouser leg which had hitched up, and her sock. She glanced down. His fingers were stroking her, but she didn’t think he realised he was doing it. She looked away quickly so he wouldn’t notice.

“What about the area?” she said.

“Since I left Scotland when I was eighteen.”

“That’s young, to move to another country.”

“Not really. It’s only a couple of hours from Glasgow. I came here to go to the university at Lancaster, and I’ve never left.”

“Oh, you were at the university?” Abby tried to imagine a young Kane back in the nineties, someone more carefree perhaps, his hair long and curly, dancing to the Blurred or whatever that band was called. Nope, she couldn’t picture it; he seemed like someone who was born quiet and serious.

“Yes.”

“What did you study?”

“Philosophy, Politics and Economics.”

“Wow! That’s a heavy course for a young man.”

Kane shrugged. “I was always interested in politics. I was head of the debating society at school and head of the school council.”

“I have no doubt. So you wanted to be a politician?”

“I wanted to do some good in society, yes, try to right what I saw as wrongs, I suppose. I was idealistic as a youth.”

“But you ended up a prison governor? How the hell did that happen?”

Kane closed his eyes briefly. His hand stilled where it was stroking her foot. He leaned forward, grabbed the wine. “More?”

Abby’s head was starting to feel fluffy, like part of her brain had been replaced by cotton wool, but she nodded, and Kane poured another glass. He was delaying answering her question, and she couldn’t think why; it was simple enough to answer, surely?

“I erm, there was a miscarriage of justice, not long after I left university. It made me want to find out more about the prison service, and, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to do something about it, try to ensure the law is properly served. So I took the graduate programme and that’s it really.”

That wasn’t it at all, because he was staring into his wine glass as he talked, and Abby could tell there was something he was holding back. She was drink emboldened, so she didn’t think twice about asking him.

“What happened? What was the miscarriage of justice?”

Kane took a deep breath, let out a heavy sigh. “It was a long time ago. What about you, why are you in England?”

Nicely deflected, thought Abby, and she filed what he had told her away to examine another time, when she was sober. “I came here with my husband, for his job.”

“Did you do what you do now in America, therapy and teaching?”

“God no. I was an artist; I had a gallery in Glendale. That’s a trendy suburb of Los Angeles. I wasn’t world-famous, but I sold enough paintings to make a decent living.”

“And you gave that up to come to England?” Surprise was etched all over Kane’s face.

“Well, like I said I came here with my husband, and London was exciting, a new adventure. I took commissions and had a couple of shows. It was fun.”

“And now you’re working in a prison and a local high school? Forgive me for asking, but why did you come here?”

Abby regarded Kane. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell him, because let’s face it, it didn’t exactly make her look good, what had happened with her husband, but it would feel good to talk about it a little, after two years of lying and obfuscating.

“I told you London was too expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been, if my husband hadn’t bankrupted me before he ran away.”

Kane couldn’t hide his shock. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide. “He bankrupted you? What did he do?”

“He was an investment banker, did what they call short-selling. It’s very risky. I had no idea that’s what he was doing until after he’d gone. He got greedy, got into a lot of debt, and used my gallery as collateral. So when it all collapsed I lost everything. First thing I knew about it was when creditors came knocking at the door, followed by the police, and he was nowhere to be found.”

“God, Abby. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I had some savings of my own, luckily, so I was able to stay in London for a short time and try to sort everything out. As soon as I could I left and came up here. I wanted a simpler life, somewhere completely different.”

“What about your gallery?”

“Gone. All my paintings sold to pay off the debts.”

“I thought you were too good for someone teaching art at a local school.” Kane was stroking her foot again. He looked angry, and she knew that look; she had it frequently in the early days whenever she thought of her no-good husband and what he’d done.

“I can see you have a good eye for art,” she said, gesturing to the canvases on his wall.

“I know what I like that’s all.” Kane looked at her, sucked in his lower lip. “You’re not going to stay, are you?” he said in a low voice. “This town. It can’t be what you want.”

He didn’t want her to go, Abby realised with a rush of blood to pretty much everywhere in her body. “I told you I’m not making any decisions yet. And yes, this town is, well, interesting.” She gave a small laugh.

“Why do you think I live all the way out here?”

“The town has its attractions, though.” Abby wiggled her foot into Kane’s crotch, rubbed him with it. He moaned.

“My cock is the town’s attraction?”

“Have you not heard the rumours?” They both laughed, their shoulders shaking. “Your cock is stirring,” Abby said as she felt it growing beneath her toes.

“It does that when someone rubs it,” said Kane.

“Hmmm.” Abby slid off the sofa, onto her knees in front of Kane. “Maybe I can bring it fully to life.” She undid his belt, pulled his zipper down.

“What are you doing?” Kane put his hands on hers, stilling her.

“I’m going to make you feel good.” Abby brushed his hands away and caressed him through his underpants, and then she put her hand inside his pants and pulled out his cock. It was semi-hard, warm and growing heavy in her hand. She put her lips around the head and sucked. Kane groaned.

“Not here,” he said. “Not on the sofa.”

“Yes here. I won’t spill a drop, I promise.”

He put his hand on her head, stroked her hair. “Abby,” he pleaded.

“It’s okay. Trust me.” She stroked his cock with one hand while she sucked the head, circling her tongue around and around until his fingers were curled tightly into her hair and he was moaning. She took him deeper into her mouth, letting her tongue slide over the ridge as she sucked. She put her hand inside his underpants, cupped his balls and squeezed them lightly. He cried out with pleasure, thrust himself towards her. She sucked in her cheeks, went to work on him in earnest, building up the speed the way he liked it until she could feel him tense up, and his hands were shaking where they held her head, his breaths heavy. “Abby,” he groaned, and then he was coming, thrusting towards her. It was the first time he’d said her name or anything before he’d come. A warm shiver ran through Abby. She swallowed his juice, licked him clean, like he did to her. Then she took him out of her mouth and held him while he softened. She sat back on her knees and looked at him. He was looking at her; his eyes were dark, but the light from the fire glinted in them.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank me. I enjoyed it.” She laid his cock against his belly. “Do you want me to get you a cloth?”

“No. No, it’s okay.” He was still looking at her, and Abby sat back on the floor, pulled her legs up in front of her.

“What’s the matter?”

His face came alive the way it did when he was thinking how best to say what he wanted to say. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he said at last.

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The way I am.”

“No,” she said simply.

Kane nodded.

“I’m going to go and get in your big comfy bed,” said Abby. “And you’re going to come up when you’re ready, and if you happened to want to return the favour with me, then I wouldn’t complain.”

“Okay. You can use the bathroom that’s just down the hall from my room, if you need it.”

“I will.” She stood up, bent down and pressed a kiss to his head, then she went upstairs and located which room was the bathroom out of the myriad rooms there seemed to be in his house. She had a pee and washed her knickers in the sink because she hadn’t brought a change of clothes with her then hung them up on the towel rack, had a quick wash and went to his room. She got under the covers naked and willed him to come upstairs before she got too comfy and fell asleep.

She could hear Kane moving around downstairs and concentrated on the sounds he was making to keep herself awake. When she heard the creak of the staircase and his soft footsteps on the wooden treads her heartrate picked up and she felt excited and nervous at the same time. She hadn’t spent the whole night with someone in a long time, except for a one-night stand she regretted and thankfully could barely remember. The door opened and he was standing there, a dark silhouette against the landing light.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“No,” said Abby, and she smiled at his quiet chuckle as he closed the door. Her eyes adjusted again to the gloom and she watched as he took off his clothes and folded them neatly, placing them on a chest at the foot of the bed. He stretched and yawned, and then he walked around to the side of the bed, pulled back the covers and got in.

“You’re tired,” said Abby.

“No, not really.”

“It’s okay. We should get some sleep.”

Kane pulled back the covers further and rolled so that he was straddling her. “I made a promise, and I always keep my promises.”

“You don’t have to.”

Kane leaned forward so his face was an inch from hers. “Shush. I want to.” He closed the gap between them and kissed her, a deep kiss that heated Abby’s blood, made her press herself harder to him, seeking contact. He spent a long time on her breasts, massaging them, tonguing the areola, sucking on her nipples until Abby was squirming beneath him, longing for him to pay the same attention to her sex, which was throbbing and wet for him.

“You’re such a tease,” she cried.

His laugh sent vibrations through her sensitive skin and she put her hands on his head and tried to push him further down her body, but he resisted. “Patience!” He kissed her stomach, slowly making his way to her mound and just as she thought he was going to finally touch her where she wanted to be touched he skirted to the sides, kissing the inside of her thighs.

“C’mon! I want to feel your tongue on me. You’re so good at it.” She felt him smile against her thigh, and then he adjusted his position, put his thumbs on her lips and spread her wide. He gave her long slow licks at first with the flat of his tongue, then dove in deeper, tonguing the sensitive flesh at her entrance. Abby groaned, and he replaced his tongue with the tip of his finger, massaging her round and round, dipping it in and out. God it felt amazing. When he finally reached her clit, licking it the way she liked, she was already buzzing, and it only took a few seconds before a huge orgasm hit her, leaving her hot all over, weak and breathless.

Kane looked up from between her legs; she could see his grin in the pale moonlight.

“Good?” he said.

“Can’t speak,” Abby panted.

Kane crawled up the bed to lay next to her. “I owed you a ten out of ten after last time.”

“That wasn’t a ten out of ten,” she said when she got her breath back.

“No?” Kane turned to look at her, a frown on his face.

“No. I’d have to give it fifteen, maybe more.”

“We’re going to need a higher scale,” said Kane, and they both laughed.

They lay quietly on their backs next to each other, not touching, not speaking, each in their separate thoughts. Abby thought she should be tired, but she wasn’t; she felt euphoric. Hormones, she told herself, but it was more than that. She wanted to turn over and curl into Kane, but she didn’t know if he would welcome that.

“This is a little strange for me; I haven’t spent the night with someone for a long time,” she said. “Is it for you?”

“Yes,” he replied in a quiet voice.

“Been a while, huh, since you had someone in this bed?”

He didn’t reply for ages and Abby wondered if he’d fallen asleep until he finally spoke. “No one has been in this bed.”

“No one at all?”

She heard the rustle of his pillow as he shook his head. “No one’s ever been here, to this house.”

“Not in eight years?” Abby was astonished, more than astonished. She couldn’t comprehend never having a visitor ever in her home. In London her house was always full of people. It was quieter up here but still she had Kane, and Diana Sydney even though she was never invited. There’d been a few girly nights with a couple of the teachers, drinking wine and watching movies.

“What about your ex-wife?” she continued when he didn’t immediately answer.

“I built this after she left. She’s never seen it.”

“She left you?”

“Yes.”

He fell silent and Abby didn’t think he was going to say anything else; she was dying to know more but wasn’t going to press him, not in the middle of the night, not when he was a little drunk and vulnerable. She’d probably probed enough.

“She found someone else,” he continued, surprising Abby. “Someone better than me. I wasn’t good enough for her,” he said.

“Oh.” A lot of things about Kane fell into place for Abby when he said those words. How long had his wife made him feel worthless? She had to respond with more than just oh, but she had to be careful. She was treading on delicate ground here. “I’m sure it wasn’t you; some people are never satisfied.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said for about the third time that night. Maybe it was time-wise, but not in his mind, or his heart, that much was clear. “This house is my sanctuary.”

Abby got goosebumps at his words. This was his private place, where no one had been before, man or woman, and yet here she was. She was the first, the only one he’d let in. Oh, God. They were two people with complex pasts, hiding themselves away. She should have realised something like this about him the moment she saw he had OCD, and she was no better, running hundreds of miles away, telling people lies about her past to keep her privacy. How did she ever think this wouldn’t get complicated? His words needed a reply. She turned on her side to look at him.

“I feel honoured to be here,” she said, which didn’t even come close to how she felt, but it was the safest thing to say.

“You’re quite extraordinary, you know,” he said quietly, and Abby’s heart leapt into her throat. She swallowed hard.

“Wait ‘til you’ve spent the night with me. I probably fart and snore and do other human things.”

Kane laughed. “I’m sure I do too.”

“Nah, you’re too cultured for anything so course.”

He laughed again. “You’re far more cultured than I.”

“See, I would have said ‘me’. Far more cultured than me.”

“That would be wrong.”

“I wouldn’t have known that.”

Kane looked at her; his eyes roamed her face in the half light, a slight frown creasing his brow. It was the look he’d given her when they first had sex, like he didn’t believe she was real.

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?” Abby said, and after he’d leaned in to kiss her she rolled him onto his back and put her head on his chest before he had time to react. He didn’t say anything, but his arm came to rest on her hip, and he left it there, touching her lightly.


	7. Secret Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending their first full night together, Kane lets Abby into a few of his secrets.

Abby woke to sunlight streaming through the Velux window. There was no sign of Kane and his side of the bed was cold, so he must have been up a while. She sat up and looked around. His clothes were still at the foot of the bed. There was a door on his side of the room and she got up and opened it, looked inside. It was an en-suite bathroom, immaculately clean. There wasn’t a single product on show, so she went inside and opened a cabinet. There were the usual grooming products inside, deodorant, razor, shaving cream, hair gel, and a bottle of expensive-looking scent – Tom Ford’s Oud Wood. Abby opened it and sniffed. It smelled of Kane, warm and spicy, cardamom and sandalwood and something else she couldn’t define. She was tempted to dab some on her wrist but then he would know she’d been snooping in his bathroom. His hairbrush sat on the lower shelf and she picked it up to examine it. There wasn’t a single hair caught in it. She looked in the bin and it was empty. What did he do with the hairs? Abby’s hairbrush was covered in hairs no matter how often she pulled them out or cleaned it.

She had the urge to pee but she didn’t dare go in his bathroom; he clearly didn’t want her in here otherwise he’d have told her about it rather than sending her to the one on the landing. She pulled on her shirt and padded over to her bathroom. She couldn’t hear any sounds of movement on the ground floor; maybe Kane had fallen asleep on the sofa. She peed, washed, and pulled on her now-dry knickers. A tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush had appeared in the bathroom since last night and she brushed her teeth. There was no hairbrush, though, and she looked in the mirror, frowning at the sight that greeted her. Her brown eyes looked tired, with small creases beneath them. Her mascara had miraculously stayed on, which at least made her eyelashes look long and full. Her lips were pale; she had some lip gloss in her bag she thought but that was downstairs. Her hair, though, God. It was knotted and messy, sticking up in all the wrong places. She ran her fingers through it as best she could, tried to smooth it down. It would have to do. Hopefully he would have a spare hairbrush somewhere. A man who took such great care of his hair as Kane did had to have emergency supplies.

She splashed her face, sucked on her lips to bring some colour to them, and then satisfied she looked as good as she was ever likely to given the circumstances, she went downstairs. The fire was roaring in the stove but there was no sign of Kane in the room.

The patio door was open. She went through it and he was standing on the tile, dressed only in black boxers and a grey t-shirt. He was holding a cup of something hot and was staring out across the moorland to the sea. Abby sneaked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. He jumped, spilling some of the tea.

“Sorry,” she said.

He put his free hand on top of hers where they were clasped over his stomach. “I’m sorry; I was startled.”

“Did you forget I was here?”

“No, no, how could I forget that? It was unexpected, that’s all.”

Abby laid her head against his back. She could feel his heart beating ten to the dozen. Either she’d _really_ startled him, or he was excited to see her. Bit of both probably, hopefully.

“I put some toothpaste and a toothbrush in your bathroom,” said Kane.

“I know. I found it. Thank you.”

Kane put down his cup on the table next to them and turned so they were facing each other. He put his arms around her, brought her to him and bent his head to kiss her.

“Morning,” he said, when they parted.

“Morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Not bad. You didn’t snore, so it was okay.”

Abby smiled up at him and they kissed again. Kane’s hands moved lower, caressing her arse, and Abby felt desire pooling again. He barely had to touch her and she wanted to jump on him, right here, right now, out on the patio with the whole world in front of them. He obviously felt the same because his erection was pushing against her thigh.

“To bed?” he whispered.

“No, the fire.” Abby took his hand and led him back inside. She grabbed a blanket from the chair. “Does this have any sentimental value?”

“No.” Kane shook his head and frowned.

“Okay then.” Abby lay the blanket on the floor in front of the stove and then she sat down on it and held out her hand to Kane. He took it and she pulled him down beside her. “I’ve always wanted to do it in front of a fire,” she said, “but it’s too hot in California.” She pulled off her top and Kane did the same. He bent over her and kissed her, pushing himself against her through the thin material of his shorts.

“These have to come off,” said Abby, and she wiggled them down over his hips. Kane took them the rest of the way and then he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and stripped them from her.

“So do yours,” he said as he added them to the pile of discarded clothes.

They made love in front of the fire; she had to call it that because it wasn’t the frenetic fucking they usually participated in, it wasn’t fast and hot like the previous night. It was slow, and loving; gentle caresses, soft kisses, discovering new ways to touch each other, bring new moans and cries to each other’s lips. When they’d both come, they lay entangled together, kissing. Abby didn’t want the moment to end, but her stomach growled, betraying her other needs, and Kane broke the kiss, brushed her damp hair from her face, and smiled at her.

“Are you hungry?”

“Only for you,” and she looked at Kane and he looked at her and then they both broke into laughter. “Sorry, that was really cheesy,” said Abby.

“Just a bit,” replied Kane.

“It’s the lack of food; my brain doesn’t know what it’s thinking.”

“Then we’d better feed you.” Kane stood up in all his naked glory and Abby stayed where she was for a moment so she could admire him. He sorted his clothes from hers and disappeared to the bathroom down the hall.

“Will French toast do you?” he said on his return.

“What’s French toast?” Abby had dressed while he was gone and now she went over to the kitchen so she could talk to him while he cooked.

“It’s bread dipped in egg and fried.”

“Oh, eggy bread. Yes! Do you use cinnamon?”

“And vanilla.”

“Wonderful.” Abby pulled out one of the breakfast chairs that was tucked beneath the centre island and perched on it. Kane poured two glasses of orange juice and slid one across the counter to her before returning to his preparations. Abby put the glass on the coaster and watched him work. How had he not been good enough for his wife? Yes, he came across as arrogant and pompous when you first met him, and he definitely had his quirks, many of which were probably caused by what his wife had done to him, and he must have had obsessive tendencies before that; they didn’t manifest from nowhere, but still. He was caring and tender, intelligent and sophisticated, and he could cook! And he was great in bed, really great. She could see how his cleanliness issues would be a turn off for some women, most probably. It wasn’t the best feeling when a man has to wipe all traces of you off him immediately after sex, but there were reasons for it, he couldn’t help it, or at least not without support, and it was a small price to pay for all the wonderful things about him.

Kane had finished frying the toasts and he passed one to Abby before settling onto a chair next to her with his own plate.

“My mom used to make this for me when I was a kid,” said Abby as she took a bite. “Mmm, it’s lovely.”

“We ate this a lot in Glasgow too, although not with cinnamon. That would have been too sophisticated.”

“Do you have siblings?” said Abby, keen to find out some more about him while he was in a talkative mood.

“I’m an only child.”

“Me too.”

Kane nodded. “It’s probably why we’re over-achievers.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. The weight of your parents’ expectations resting solely on you. Makes you work hard so that you don’t let them down.”

“I can’t say my parents bothered too much what I did. They were pretty laid back.” It amused Abby that he thought she was an over-achiever. She didn’t see herself in that way, although she’d always worked hard. Maybe he was looking for things he thought they had in common.

“I was the most intelligent person in our family by a long way, so it was expected I would achieve a lot, go to university.”

Abby smiled at his confident description of himself. “How did they feel when you became prison governor then?”

“They thought I would be Prime Minister, so you can probably imagine how they felt.”

Abby ate some more of the toast. God, it really was good. He had a light touch when it came to cooking, his food rich but not heavy. She wanted to ask him something even more personal and decided to go for it and hope it wouldn’t spoil the mood.

“Can I ask you something?”

He paused mid-chew, then continued and swallowed the food. “What is it?”

“Last night you said no one had been here or in your bed.”

“That was true.”

“Yes, I know. I was just wondering if you’d dated at all, since your wife left?”

“Oh, I see. Yes, there have been a few women, but they didn’t last long.”

“What went wrong?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

A sinking feeling settled in Abby’s stomach, and a cold shiver ran through her veins. She shouldn’t have asked him that; it was none of her business and now she’d made him feel bad. She had to resolve this.

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Kane laughed. “Oh, they do, but it’s okay. None of them were right for me anyway. I had a lucky escape in pretty much every case.” He pushed back his plate and turned to Abby. He didn’t look upset; his eyes were twinkling. “Would you like to do something? Go for a walk maybe?”

“Sure, that sounds great. Do you have a spare hairbrush? I have to untangle these knots before I go out and the wind turns my hair into a bird’s nest.”

“I can find you something. I’ll get changed and then we’ll get out while the sun is still shining.”

“Okay.” Abby followed him upstairs and retrieved her pants and boots and then they disappeared into their separate bathrooms to prepare for their walk.

They met up again in the living room. Kane was wearing black combat-style pants, a black hooded jumper and black leather jacket. His feet were clad in black combat boots. He had a backpack which was also black. He looked like he was about to go on a mission in enemy territory.

“Do you own anything that isn’t black?” said Abby, and he gave her a withering look. Abby was wearing the jeans and blue shirt she’d driven up in. Luckily, she’d worn boots for driving rather than shoes, but her jacket was a thin summery affair because she refused to accept that winter was on its way. Kane looked her up and down.

“Is that all you have?”

“I didn’t know I was going on a military exercise when I left home yesterday.”

“You might need a jumper and a better jacket. It’s cold up on the hills.”

“Are we climbing a mountain?”

“No, but it’s best to be prepared. I’ll find you something.” He disappeared upstairs and came back with a grey hooded jumper. “This is the best I could find. It will keep you warm.” He gave it to Abby who put it on over her shirt. It was a couple of sizes too big for her, and she had to turn the sleeves up otherwise her hands disappeared, but it was a better fit than she’d thought.

“It shrank in the wash,” said Kane in answer to her unspoken question. He stood in front of her and adjusted the hood so it sat properly. “Beautiful,” he said as he appraised her, and Abby’s butterflies woke up and made their presence felt.

“Where are we going?” she said, anxious for the walk to begin because already she was thinking maybe they should forget it and go and get in bed and never leave for the rest of their lives. Kane seemed keen, though, so she smiled dutifully and waited for him to reply.

“There’s a tourist trail a couple of miles from here that takes you along part of the coast.”

“Sounds good.”

“But we’re not going to take that.”

“Oh.” Abby laughed.

“I have my own route that I take, and there’s something to show you at the end of it.”

“Oh, really,” said Abby with a raised eyebrow.

Kane raised both his eyebrows in return and smirked. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

He gestured for Abby to go ahead of him and when they were both outside he pulled the patio door to, adjusted his backpack and started to head for the gate.

“Aren’t you going to lock the door?” said Abby, alarmed.

“What for? No one ever comes here.”

“Anyone could come here! Are you telling me the door wasn’t locked last night?”

Kane shook his head. “Er no. No one locks their doors round here.”

“What? You have to lock the door. I can’t come back here knowing the door was open all this time and anyone could be inside.” Panic was coursing through Abby’s body, and she could hear it in her voice which was high pitched and whiny.

“No one will be inside, Abby, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.”

He stared at her for a moment, frowning, and then he nodded. “No, you’re right, I can’t know that. I’ll just find the key.” He went inside and a couple of minutes later he came back out and turned the key in the lock and then he tried the door handle so she could see what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” she said when they set off down the path. “It’s an irrational fear.”

“It’s not irrational. You’ve come up from London. It’s entirely understandable.”

It was irrational, because she’d had the fear a long time before she’d moved to London, but she didn’t tell him that because she felt ashamed of her sudden outburst. She followed him through the gate and out onto the moors. They walked in silence, and she knew he was probably thinking about her now, wondering what other hidden craziness she had that he didn’t know about. A couple of months ago she wouldn’t have cared what he thought about her but now, now his opinion mattered, even though it shouldn’t because she didn’t need the approval of anyone else.

“There’s an awkward section here,” Kane said after they’d walked for a few minutes, and he held out his hand to Abby to help her down a steep slippery slope. When they reached level ground he didn’t drop her hand and she didn’t drop his and after a few seconds he laced his fingers through hers and they walked like that for a while.

“The heather is so beautiful up here,” said Abby, and she bent down to run her fingers through the course strands. “Especially against this blue sky. I should bring my paints.”

“You should. I’m surprised you haven’t painted this landscape before.”

“I haven’t really been in the uplands much. I’ve been more fascinated with stone walls and the village houses. I like getting close in to the detail.”

“I noticed.”

“Yes.”

“The heather won’t be blooming for long. Bring your paints next time you come up.”

“Next time I come up? Are you inviting me again?” Abby looked up at Kane to find him looking down at her.

“If you want to paint the heather….”

“Maybe I’d rather paint you.”

“You’ve painted me.”

“Yes, but you were clothed then.”

“Oh! I don’t think your easel is big enough,” said Kane with a smirk.

“Not for your enormous head, no.” Abby bumped against him in jest and he squeezed her hand.

“Shall we stop for a moment?” he said, indicating a large flat stone. “There’s a good view from here.”

Abby stood on top of the stone and looked out across the purple heather moorland to the Irish sea where it lay silvery-grey beneath the blue sky. She could do something freeform from this, a blurring of lines and perspective. Kane’s arms stole around her like she’d done to him that morning. He kissed the side of her neck.

“What are you thinking?”

Abby put her hands over his. “Just thinking about painting.”

Kane kissed her neck again, and then her cheek, and the side of her mouth. Abby turned in his arms and their lips met in a deep kiss. She slid her hands into Kane’s wind-swept hair, his waves so much softer without the gel. A cough made them jump apart, but it was only someone on the tourist path hundreds of feet in the distance, the sound carried to them on the wind.

“Is this what you do on your weekends? Go hiking?”

“Sometimes. I like to take photographs as well. Mostly I work. There’s the campaign to administer, and there’s usually paperwork from the prison that I haven’t managed to complete.”

“You take photographs?”

“Yes. Black and white.”

“Right. Oh!” said Abby as realisation dawned. “Those pictures on your walls. Are they yours?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Abby shook her head in surprise.

“Those are four out of about ten thousand pictures that I’ve taken over the years. I take my camera on all my walks just in case.”

“Do you have it with you now?”

“Yes.” Kane opened his backpack which Abby could now see was a special one with padded pockets. He took out a digital SLR, a Canon, high end, Abby could tell from the lens. She’d seen plenty of these over the years; lots of artists used them to set up scenes they would later paint. She preferred to paint from life, not photographs, but she could see the attraction, and the pictures Kane had on his wall were good.

Kane took off the lens cap and switched on the camera. He handed it to Abby. It had a comforting weight to it, solid but balanced. She pointed it at Kane. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and she clicked the shutter. She looked at the picture and laughed. “Gotcha!” she said. He leaned in so he could see the still.

“Hmmm. Not my best angle.”

“It’s very you.” She handed the camera back to Kane. “Don’t delete that picture!” she said as she saw his thumb hovering over the trash can icon.

“I won’t delete it if I can photograph you.”

“Oh, that’s sneaky.”

Kane held his hands up in a ‘so what can you do’ gesture, and Abby had no choice but to give in.

“How do you want me?”

“Just look natural. Forget I’m here.”

Kane moved out of her line of sight and Abby stared out across the ocean. It was so grey here, not like the blue green of the Pacific back home. She missed the ocean, and the warmth. They’d had a good summer here, but autumn was coming, with winter fast on its heels. Below Abby a sea mist formed low clouds over the land, but up here on the hills it was bright and clear. Kane came back into view, a smile on his face.

“Did you get a good one?”

“I got a few, yes. I’ll have to check them out on my computer later, see which is the best.”

“Let me see.”

Kane showed Abby the pictures via the small screen. He’d captured her staring into the distance and zoomed in close, so her face almost filled the shot.

“I look sad!” she said as she examined the picture.

“Wistful, maybe. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about the ocean back home.”

“Ah. Would you rather be there than here?”

Abby put her hand on his face, stroked his cheek. “No, except for the warmth. I miss the warmth sometimes.”

Kane kissed the palm of her hand, and then he looked down at the photo again. “I think you look beautiful. You photograph well.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to keep going? We’re not far from what I want to show you.”

“Let’s do that.”

They walked for another half an hour and the grass turned to a loose grit with large boulders scattered among it. They were walking along the edge of a cliff, the sea crashing beneath them. There was a faint path amongst the scree, and Kane went ahead, holding his hand out for Abby when the going got slippery or steep. They came to a narrow grassy shelf, just wide enough for them to walk along it in single file. Kane was a few yards ahead of her, and suddenly he disappeared. Fear gripped Abby, making her heart constrict, her stomach knot. Had he fallen? She carried on walking, her throat getting tighter with every step. She wouldn’t be able to breathe soon. A few seconds later and the shelf widened and Kane was standing beneath a stone overhang. He held his hand to her and she took it and he pulled her in so she was standing next to him. They were in a small cave, just high enough that Kane could stand upright without hitting his head, although only by a matter of an inch or so. The cave wasn’t very deep, no more than a few feet, and was dominated by a large slab of stone like a natural bench.

“What do you think?” said Kane.

“It’s amazing!”

“It’s my secret place. I like to come here when I need to think. I’ve plotted most of my campaign from here.”

“Really? I can see it’s very inspiring.” From the cave entrance she could see for miles across the sea to a shimmering landmass in the distance. “Is that Ireland?”

“No. It’s the Isle of Man.” Kane grabbed hold of her and kissed her, holding her tight to him. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have sex in here,” he whispered.

“Oh, have you? I thought there was some other reason you wanted to drag me all the way out here.”

Kane feigned shock and dismay. “I merely thought you would enjoy the walk.”

“Hmmm.”

“So?” he said, with a raised eyebrow.

“So, what?”

Kane gripped her arse, pressed her tighter so she could feel his cock stirring. “So, are you going to make a man’s life-long dream come true?”

“In here? Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“It’s too cold to take my pants off.”

“You don’t have to take them all the way off. Just push them down a bit.”

“Kane, c’mon! Someone could see us.”

“No one’s going to see us here, but we can do it sitting down if you like. If you put my jacket over your lap it will just look like you’re sitting on my knee.”

“We’re two forty-somethings. No one’s going to believe I’m just sitting on your knee.”

“No one’s going to come here. I promise. No one else knows it exists.” He sat on the stone bench, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock from the slit in his shorts. She watched as he stroked it fully into life. She’d never seen him touch himself for more than a few strokes, and it turned her on to see how he held himself in a loose grip, used his thumb to massage the head. “We can’t let this go to waste,” he said.

Fuck! Abby’s sex was throbbing; she could feel herself getting wet. It felt dangerous, what they were going to do. Exciting. She held Kane’s gaze while she undid the button on her jeans and pulled the zipper down. She eased the pants and her knickers over her thighs and stood before Kane. He reached out, put his thumb on her sex. It was slick with his own juice and a pulse of desire ran through Abby when he circled her clit. He turned her so she was facing away from him and she felt his hands on her bare arse, squeezing her cheeks.

“Nice,” he said, and she batted his hands playfully. “Sit on me,” he said. He held his cock straight and she tried to sit on it, but she didn’t have much room with her pants so tight around her thighs. Kane fumbled and pressed but it wouldn’t go in.

“Bend forward,” he said.

“How’s that going to help?”

“If you bend over I can get the right angle and once I’m inside you we can both sit back down and then it will work.”

They both stood up and Abby bent over, but the whole scene felt so ridiculous she started laughing, and Kane started laughing and they were both shaking so much he couldn’t hold himself still. She could feel him trying to hit his target and failing.

“Stop it!” laughed Kane.

“I can’t.” Abby stuck her nails into her palms to try and stop herself laughing but it didn’t work.

“You know, if you’d just trust me that no one’s going to come we wouldn’t have to go through all this.”

“I’m still not stripping naked in a cave on a hill in the middle of September, so get that idea out of your head.”

Kane didn’t respond, he just put his hand on Abby’s back and pushed her forward and before she could say anything else he’d got the tip of his cock inside her, and she groaned.

“Oh!”

“Push back against me.”

She did as Kane asked, and he slid further in. Now they were both groaning. Kane put his hands around her waist and held her as he sat back down on the shelf. That made his cock go all the way in and Abby cried out. “Oh, that feels good,” she said. She pulled Kane’s jacket over her lap to cover her naked thighs. Kane put his hands on her hips and helped lift her so that she slid up and down his cock. They fell into a steady rhythm. Their moans echoed around the walls of the cave, their breaths misted the air. Abby looked out of the entrance and all she could see was sky, and the sea stretching to infinity. It felt like they were at the edge of the world, the only two people on Earth. Kane was thrusting up into her as hard as she was pushing down on him. His moans were unfettered, like he was really letting himself go, and it seemed raw, primitive. He moved his hand beneath the jacket, his fingers probing between her thighs, seeking her clit. Abby opened her legs as wide as she could, which wasn’t much, and he found her, and stroked her. She leant back against him and let him bring her to an intense climax that made her limbs weak and her head warm. Kane wrapped his arms around her, held her tight while he increased the speed of his thrusts until he was coming with a loud cry.

“God, that was hot,” he said.

“In the end,” said Abby, and they both laughed. They stayed as they were for a moment and then Abby stood up and turned around. Kane was leaning back against the wall, his cock sticking out of his pants. Abby’s jeans were bunched around her thighs. What a sight they were.

They cleaned themselves up and then Abby squeezed onto the seat next to Kane. “Was it how you’d imagined?”

“I’ve never imagined anyone like you.”

“Oh, stop.” She nudged him, smiling, but his eyes were dark and serious when he looked at her.

“It’s true. It’s easy with you, freeing.”

“Well, it’s the same for me.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her in such a tender way it made tears prick at Abby’s eyes, which was unexpected and confusing. She didn’t want him to fall for her, because that meant she was likely to hurt him at some point in the future, but she feared it was already too late. She leaned into him and he put his arm around her. It was comforting, and she felt warm and happy.

They stayed huddled together in the cave for a while, talking about Kane’s plans for his campaign now there were less than two months before the election. Somehow, Abby found herself agreeing to design new posters and by the time they left the cave to walk back to his house she was his publicist and advertising manager. She had no doubt he would make a good mayor because he’d managed to talk her into this new role without her realising it was happening. She smiled as they retraced their steps. When they reached the stone where they’d rested earlier, Abby stopped because the view had changed. The cloud was lower, and in the far distance there was a tall object poking above it, seeming to float on the clouds.

“What’s that?” she said, pointing to it.

Kane looked at where she was pointing. “Oh, that’s Blackpool Tower.”

“Blackpool Tower? What is that?”

“It’s a tourist attraction, kind of like a mini Eiffel Tower.”

“Have you ever been?”

“I used to go a lot with friends when I was at university. It was a good day out, spending pennies in the amusement arcades, going to the top of the tower, drinking cheap beer in the bars on the promenade, sleeping in our car.”

Abby looked at him as he gazed out towards the tower, looking as wistful as she had when she was thinking about the ocean back home. She still couldn’t imagine him being young and carefree. “We should go,” she said.

Kane turned back, an uncertain frown on his face. “To Blackpool?”

“Yes, why not? It will be fun. I used to love going to the pier in Santa Monica when I was a kid.”

“Blackpool isn’t California you know. It’s grey and a bit dingy.”

“So?” Abby was excited to go somewhere new now that she’d suggested it. It would be fun to go with Kane, to see him in a different environment.

Kane rubbed his chin. “I suppose the Illuminations are on at the moment so that would make it worthwhile.”

“The Illuminations?”

“An annual light show. Everything is lit up including the tower and the trams. It’s quite a spectacle, if gaudy.”

“Now you have convinced me. A light show, a tower and amusements. We’re definitely going.” Abby linked her arm through Kane’s and they retraced their steps to his house.

“We could go next weekend, if you like,” said Kane, who still looked uncertain.

“I do. Can we stay in some awful little guesthouse with old-fashioned decorations and a grumpy owner?”

“I’m not staying in Fawlty Towers, no.”

“What’s Faulty Towers?”

Kane looked at her pityingly. “You don’t know Fawlty Towers? How come we are bombarded with your terrible American television but you don’t seem to get classic British shows?”

“We might do, but I don’t watch TV.”

“Neither do I.”

“And yet you know about our terrible American shows.” Abby nudged against him playfully and Kane pushed back, smiling.

“I may have seen one or two episodes of The Wire over the internet, for professional reasons of course.”

“I’ll bet.”

Kane laughed. “We’ll stay in a nice hotel. I know of a good one that’s on the sea front.”

“Pity. I was kind of hoping for the traditional British seaside experience.”

“Trust me, staying in a grubby Blackpool guesthouse is not a great experience. The hotel is clean and convenient. It will be my treat.”

Kane’s mind was made up, but Abby wasn’t too disappointed. It would have been amusing to stay somewhere seedy, but she should have known Kane would never go for it. Far too many germs for his liking, and probably hers if she was honest.

“Sounds wonderful. Can we go in your Aston Martin?”

“Well, we’re not going in your Volvo.” Kane looked at her aghast and Abby felt mildly offended. Her car wasn’t that bad. Okay, yes it was, and it was definitely no Aston Martin. Excitement rippled through her. A weekend away in a good hotel would be fun, and as she thought those words she realised how official it made them sound, going away together like a proper couple. The beginnings of a more complex relationship were forming, and she didn’t know how she felt about it.

They had just reached the driveway of the house when Abby’s phone pinged. She took it out of her pocket and read the message.

“It’s from Diana,” she said in response to Kane’s quizzical look. “Mrs Murphy is still unwell, so I’m needed at the school for another week.”

“That’s good,” Kane said. “More money for you.”

“Yes.” Abby frowned as a thought came to her. “Hey, you’re not treating me to this hotel because you feel sorry for me, are you, after what I told you?”

Kane was yanking on the door handle without success. “Oh, I forgot I locked it. No,” he said as he fumbled in his pocket for his key. “I’m doing it so we don’t end up in some fleapit where I have to sleep fully-clothed on top of an old blanket with dubious stains.” He smiled at her as he got the door open and held it for her to pass.

“Okay,” said Abby, “because I don’t want that. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

Kane put his backpack on the chair and went into the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on the hob. “I don’t feel sorry for you, although I am angry with your husband for treating you like that. Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” Abby was relieved. Her outburst had surprised her because she hadn’t given much thought to what she’d told him last night, but clearly it had been at the back of her mind. She didn’t want to appear lesser somehow in his eyes, or anybody’s eyes, which was why she hadn’t told him the whole truth in the prison when he’d first talked about extending the project. “He’s my ex-husband now, anyway. He contacted me six months ago out of the blue to say he’d give me a divorce if I didn’t try to find him or contact him.”

“And you agreed?” said Kane, passing her a cup of tea with a splash of milk.

“Yes. I just wanted to put it behind me, to start afresh, and so I came here and that’s what I did.”

“I must confess I’m glad about that part,” said Kane as he took a sip of his tea.

“It hasn’t all been bad.” Abby raised a sly eyebrow and Kane smirked.

“Would you like some lunch?”

Abby shook her head. “I should probably go home actually.”

“Oh.” Kane looked disappointed. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t what she wanted, but if she stayed here again, if they cosied up on the sofa in front of the fire or they went to bed and made love, then she might never leave. It was getting too comfortable as it was.

“I need to prep for my classes next week, and I can’t keep wearing this same pair of knickers.”

“That last one is easily solved,” said Kane with a grin.

“Hmm, yes. No. I have to go.” She put her cup down on the counter, making sure there was a coaster beneath it. “It’s been…. I’ve enjoyed it. It’s been wonderful. Thank you.”

Kane nodded. “So, I’ll see you on Friday then? I’ll book the hotel room.”

“Oh, yes. Aren’t you going to come over during the week as usual?”

“I’m not sure I should. It’s probably not a good idea, after the letter.”

Abby was surprised at his response. She hadn’t given any further thought to the letter, and she didn’t think Kane had. She should have realised he would be quietly obsessing over it. “The letter’s nothing, Kane, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes, you are probably right, but still. Best to be careful.” He rinsed their cups in the sink and dried his hands on a towel.

“So, I won’t get to see you for a week nearly?” Having just worried that they were getting too comfortable Abby was now disappointed that she wouldn’t be seeing him. She’d got used to his visits every other day, looked forward to them.

Kane came around to her side of the counter, put his arms around her and brought her to him. “What exactly are you going to miss, Abby?” he whispered as he kissed the lobe of her ear, and then the side of her neck. Oh, this was very unfair.

“Your briefcase on my table,” she whispered back, and Kane’s laugh fluttered against her skin as he kissed her shoulder blade, pulling the jumper he’d leant her down to give him access. “Stop that,” she moaned, but he didn’t. His hands moved under the jumper and blouse, pushing them up so he could caress her, thumbs stroking the curve of her bra, inching towards her nipples.

“We can Skype, if you’re feeling needy,” he said as his thumbs reached her nipples and circled them through the material.

“What’s Skype?” said Abby in between moans.

“It’s when you use your phone to talk to someone but you can see them at the same time.” He dropped a hand to her jeans, started to pop out the button with his fingers.

“You want to video talk on the phone?”

“We don’t have to talk,” he said, and he pulled down her zipper and got his hand inside her jeans, fingers probing the waistband of her knickers.

Abby was confused for a moment. Why wouldn’t they talk? Oh. “Oh!” she said out loud. “Over the phone? People do that?”

“So I’ve heard,” said Kane, and then his hand was inside her pants, stroking her sex, and Abby forgot about Skype and that she was supposed to be leaving, and gave herself over to his clever fingers.

Two hours passed before she was finally getting in her car after kissing Kane goodbye, time they’d spent in his bed, fucking until their bodies were aching. Kane had added Skype to Abby’s phone and whispered what he wanted them to do for each other when he called her during the week and Abby was excited and nervous at the same time. Kane had assured her no one would be able to see what they were doing but Abby wasn’t sure. She had little experience with technology, but it stood to reason that anything that happened outside the privacy of four walls was discoverable by someone else.

Perhaps the possibility of being caught turned Kane on. He’d fucked her in the Town Hall and outside her own cottage after all. Now he wanted to do this video thing. It didn’t make sense, though, for someone so private to risk being seen by others. And how public had they been really? He’d locked the door at the Town Hall, and he probably thought her garden was secure and not overlooked. She was thinking too much about this, making it more than it was, which was simply a way for them to get off with each other when they couldn’t be together physically. It was just sex. Abby put the car in gear and reversed so she was facing the gate. It opened, and she turned out of the driveway, looking back at the house as she left. Kane was standing inside the patio door which was open, watching her leave.


	8. Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby embraces modern technology as she and Kane get heated over Skype

Wednesday came around quickly, and Abby sat on her bed, the phone lying on the mattress, waiting for Kane’s call. She’d got one of her more trustworthy students to show her how to use Skype on Monday so she knew how to answer the call, how to make it go to video. She was still unsure how this was going to work, how she was going to look to Kane, how he would look to her. The previous night she’d sat naked on the bed and held the phone between her legs. She’d videoed herself as she spread her lips wide, stroked her folds. She’d tried a number of different angles, close-ups and wide frames. She figured Kane would want to see her face while she was touching herself, so she’d constructed a box shelf thing that held the phone at the right height so all of her could be seen. She’d cringed when she’d watched the video back. She hadn’t really looked closely at her sex since she was young and curious, rarely given a thought to what lovers were seeing down there, and it wasn’t as though Kane hadn’t seen it all already. Still, it was different being on camera, seeing herself close-up, and after viewing the video she’d gone immediately to the bathroom and trimmed and waxed and generally neatened everything up.

Tonight she’d showered, dried and curled her hair so it fell over her shoulders and onto her breasts, and was wearing a white slip that had a V-neck to show off her cleavage and was long enough to cover her modesty but short enough that she didn’t have to hike it up far if he wanted her to keep it on while he watched her. She hadn’t even given a thought to what he might be doing; she only cared about what he could see.

At precisely eight o’clock the phone rang and Abby stared at it for a moment before answering it as her student had shown her. Kane’s face appeared, filling the screen.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Abby replied.

“Can you see me?” he said.

“Yes. Can you see me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. How have you been?”

“Fine. Good. How was school?”

“It was good fun. We went out into the countryside and made autumn collages.”

She watched as he nodded. Then he reached off-screen, and a glass of wine appeared. He took a sip. He was mostly a face, but she could make out that he was wearing a black jumper. “Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m in my bedroom.”

“Me too.”

He smiled. “What are you wearing?”

“A white slip.” Abby held the phone at arm’s length. “Can you see it?”

“Yes. I like it.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A jumper, and pants.”

“Is it cold?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then why are you wearing a jumper?”

“Do you want me to take it off?”

“Yes.” The view on her screen wobbled as Kane set down his phone and then she saw him stretch upwards and remove his jumper. “Nice,” she said, because it was a nice view as always. His nipples were hard, so he was either excited or it was colder than he was saying.

“I was thinking about you earlier,” he said, picking up the phone so his face filled the screen again.

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was in a meeting with the prison inspectorate. He was going over the same old ground, and my mind drifted to that second time, in the prison, when you were all over me.”

“I was all over you?” Abby laughed, and the phone shook in her hand. “You were a willing participant.”

“It was hard not to be when you were grinding against me like that.”

“You liked it.”

“I will concede it was a pleasant experience.”

“Ha! You told me you enjoyed it, when you came round to my place later, remember?”

“Perhaps I did.”

“Oh, you did. You had me pressed up against the wall, and you said you’d liked it.”

“Hmmm.” Kane groaned, and he made some movement out of her eyeline.

“What are you doing?”

“Adjusting myself.”

“Let me see.”

Kane angled the phone down so Abby could see his pants. His hand was covering the front of them, stroking the bulge his cock was making.

“You need to be free,” she said, and she had no idea where this boldness was coming from, but she didn’t care. She was hot and feeling sexy and naughty.

“Do you think so?” Kane pulled his cock from his pants, stroked it and moaned.

“Completely free.”

The phone jerked again as he set it down, and then she saw him hook his fingers in the waistband of his pants and lie back out of shot while he was presumably pulling them down. He picked up the phone and angled it so she could see his cock standing proud. “Better?” he said.

“Yes,” Abby breathed.

Kane sat the phone against something so it was steady, and then he sat back, took his cock in hand. “Can you see me properly?”

“Yes, I can see you.”

“When I was thinking about you in my office, I got hard. I wanted to touch myself but the inspector was right across the desk, sitting where you were. I kept seeing you with that biscuit crumb, and it made matters worse. I had to hold a report in front of me when I stood up to shake his hand.” Kane laughed, made a loose fist and stroked his cock.

“I knew that biscuit crumb had turned you on,” said Abby, laughing. “I thought about you too today.”

“Did you?” Another stroke of his fist, the passing of his thumb over the head.

“Yes. I was thinking about your tongue on me, how good you are with it. I’ve been wet most of the afternoon.” Abby’s heart was thumping so hard as she said this. She’d never really talked dirty like this, and she’d never imagined she’d be talking to Kane in this manner.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Spread your legs, let me see you.”

Abby took a deep breath. She put the phone on the shelf she’d made, then she slowly lifted her slip, let it slide over her thighs, up to her waist. She let her legs fall open, ran her finger up and down her slit, dipped it inside, bringing out her juices so she could coat herself with them, and then opened herself to him. Kane gripped his cock tighter, groaned.

“So beautiful,” he said, and Abby’s clit pulsed. She could feel it beneath her fingers, but she didn’t think he’d be able to see it. “Touch yourself, like you do when you’re alone,” he said.

Abby stroked her lips, ran her fingers round and round her sex in ever decreasing circles. She pulled her slip down to expose her breast and pinched her nipple.

“You like to play with your nipples?” Kane said.

“Yes. It turns me on more.”

“Have you touched yourself and thought about me?” He stroked his cock faster, his fist still loose, his thumb rubbing along his length.

“The first time,” Abby whispered, “was after you came to one of my sessions. The time I drew you.”

“What did you do?”

“You made me so hot, the way you looked at me in that room, and I came home, and I lay on the bed like I am now.”

“Yes.” Kane groaned, he had both hands on his cock now, alternating his strokes.

“I didn’t have time to take off my clothes I was so turned on.”

“You were wearing your grey jeans.”

“Yes, and I put my hand inside and I was already so wet.”

“And your clit was hard.”

“Yes, and aching. I imagined you pushing me up against the wall in the prison. Your pants were round your ankles.” Kane’s groans were loud now, echoing through the phone into her room. Abby was warm all over and her vision was starting to swim. She tried to focus, to concentrate on Kane, because she thought he was close to coming and she wanted to see it.

“Did I lift you up?” he said in a hoarse whisper she could only just hear.

“Yes, you lifted me and you slammed me against the wall and your cock was so hard, and it felt so good inside me.” Abby was lost to this scenario now. She was in the prison, and she could feel Kane, the weight of him, the power of his thrusts. She put a finger inside her, and another. Her circles around her clit were smaller, tighter. Her whole sex was hot. Kane groaned louder.

“Oh, yes, God. It always feels good being inside you. So hot.”

“You fucked me so hard.”

“I had to. I wanted you so badly. Couldn’t control myself.”

“I like it when you’re wild.”

“You make me lose myself.”

“Lose yourself now.”

“Yes.”

“You’re inside me, fucking me.”

“You’re tight.”

“Yes, and gripping you.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Fuck me. Make me come.”

“I am fucking you,” he said, his voice low and breathy. “My fingers are on your clit, it’s so slippery and wet.”

“Yes.”

“I’m circling it and circling it. I can feel you throbbing. You’re going to come.”

“Yes, I am,” said Abby, and she let herself go, closed her eyes for a moment as a shockwave of heat ran through her. She wanted to lie back and wallow in the feeling, but Kane was close, she could tell from the ragged breathing that was coming out of the phone. She opened her eyes, and he was watching her, waiting for her to look at him, his fist a blur on his cock. She watched as Kane closed his eyes, lay back against his pillow, and then he cried out and was coming in great spurts all over his belly.

He lay there for a moment breathing heavily, and then he sat up and smiled into the camera. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Abby gave a small laugh, suddenly feeling awkward now that she was out of that zone and she thought back over the words they’d said to each other.

“Yeah.” Kane’s laugh was small too. He leaned out of view and when he returned all traces of his orgasm were gone from his belly. Abby realised she was still lying with her legs wide open, her slip round her waist. She sat up, pulled the slip down. “I can’t believe how hot that was,” said Kane.

“Have you done it before?”

“No, never. Have you?”

“No. Some teasing over the phone a few times, but nothing like this.”

“Thank God for modern technology,” said Kane. He reached out of shot and came back with his glass of wine. He took a large sip.

“I’m not usually a fan.” Abby was annoyed she hadn’t had the foresight to get a drink. She could use a glass right now.

“Maybe this will convert you. You know, if you had a computer we could see each other much better.”

“Oh, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Abby, alarmed at the thought of her sex filling an entire screen.

“Of course it is, you’re beautiful, and I need to be appreciated in all my glory.” He laughed, gave her that double eyebrow raise he liked to do when he was teasing her.

Abby laughed in response. “I’d rather have the real thing.”

“I know, me too. We don’t have long to wait. One more day, and then Friday I’ll be inside you for real.”

He spoke in a low voice, and Abby’s stomach flipped at his words and his tone. Her sex throbbed again. “I can’t wait.”

Kane sighed. He was stroking his cock absent-mindedly, or so she presumed, because it wasn’t likely to respond so soon after he’d come.

“What are you thinking?” she ventured, not at all sure what his answer would be.

“I was thinking I should have come to see you and we’d have been enjoying each other face to face. I shouldn’t have allowed that letter to get to me.”

That answer was definitely unexpected. “It had the desired effect that’s all. You’re a private man, and it was an intrusion. It’s not your fault.”

He nodded. “I’ll pick you up on Friday.”

“I thought you wanted me to meet you at your house?”

“No. I’m not going to hide you away like a guilty secret. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

“I know we’re doing nothing wrong, Kane, but you have to consider your campaign. I don’t want to jeopardise that.”

“You let me worry about my campaign.” Kane’s eyebrows twitched and he sucked on his lips as he stared into the camera, into her eyes. He wanted to say something that wasn’t easy for him. Abby waited. “You can call me Marcus, you know, if you want,” he said at last.

Another unexpected comment. Abby smiled, nodded into the camera. “Okay. I will. Thank you.”

Kane sighed deeply. “Okay. I have to go and finalise a report after today’s prison inspection.”

“I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“Yes.” He picked up the phone and his face zoomed large into her view. He held it further back. “Bye,” he said.

“Bye.” Kane’s face disappeared and Abby retrieved her phone from its shelf and exited Skype. She moved the shelf to the floor then went downstairs to pour herself a glass of wine which she brought back up to her bedroom. She settled back against her pillows, took a sip of the wine and thought back through their conversation.

So, now they were Marcus and Abby. Another nail had been hammered into their keeping-it-casual coffin it seemed. In fact, the whole evening felt like an awakening, intimate and revealing in more ways than the obvious one. His desire for her thrilled her, she couldn’t deny it. Thinking about her in his office, getting hard, letting himself be distracted was a very un-Kane-like thing to do. She was under his skin, had been from the start. He had noticed what she was wearing so early into their acquaintance, remembered it. He was someone who paid attention to detail so maybe it was nothing more than that, but she didn’t think so. Inviting her to his home, letting her stay, showing her his private places, telling her to call him Marcus, picking her up, treating her to a good hotel. He was romancing her in his own way and the funny thing was Abby didn’t think he realised what he was doing, didn’t know how revealing his behaviour was.

And then there was her, because she had to admit her own role in this. She’d never connected to someone sexually in the way she had to Kane. To Marcus. It was going to be hard getting used to saying that name. It hadn’t occurred to her to call him Marcus. Everyone called him Kane, Governor Kane or Councillor Kane and she hadn’t thought to be different. She was uninhibited around him, confident. Not that she’d ever been a prude and she’d always enjoyed sex, but this was different, this felt like they could do anything, say anything, BE anything. There were no limits other than those imposed by his OCD and there’d been small changes with that already. Him admitting it to her for one thing; that must have been big for him after all his previous rejections.

She liked how he looked at her, how it made her feel. She liked that she was the one he’d let in, who’d broken through his impenetrable walls. She enjoyed his company, found his funny ways endearing. He made her smile, and laugh, and feel good. She looked forward to seeing him, missed him when he wasn’t there. What did all this say about her? What did she really need? Because it certainly didn’t sound like anything casual, not when she examined it closely. They were in a relationship, it couldn’t be denied, one that had a lot to offer them both, and was that really such a bad thing in the end?


	9. Weekend Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane and Abby go away for the weekend to the seaside at Blackpool.

On the Friday of their trip to Blackpool Abby had just enough time to get home from school, shower, change and pack her bag before her phone buzzed with a text from Kane to say he was five minutes away. It was a beautiful autumn day with blue skies and a mild breeze and Abby had decided to wear the grey jeans that Kane had commented on, knee-high boots with a flat heel for ease of walking, a white long-sleeved cotton jumper and a long, grey woollen cardigan. Her hair was down and tied back from her face with a simple knot. She had an overnight bag with two changes of outfit and a small over-the-shoulder purse. She was ready for anything.

She went around the house checking all the windows were secure and by the time she’d done that he was knocking on her door. She opened it and Kane was standing there in his work suit. He smiled at her, looked her up and down. “Wow. You are definitely the most stunning thing Blackpool will have seen in a long time!”

“Is it too much?” Abby flashed back to Diana saying she was overdressed for the Town Hall. Had she got it wrong again?

“No. You’re perfect.” He stepped into the living room and pulled her into his arms. They kissed, and Abby put her arms around his neck, her hands cradling the back of his head. As always, the kiss got deeper, hotter, until Kane pulled back with a heavy sigh. “We should go.”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Is that your bag?” He said, nodding at her overnight case.

“Yes.”

Kane picked up her bag and went out to his Aston Martin, opening the boot and storing it inside. Abby locked the door and followed him. Mrs Pickford was out in her front garden again. Did she have the best/worst timing in the world or did she come out deliberately every time she saw Kane’s car because she always seemed to be there. Abby waved at her and got nothing but a small nod in return. Kane closed the boot and came around to her side of the car. He opened the door for her and Abby got in. She settled into the beige leather seat. The car was immaculate inside, like new, although she didn’t think it was a new model. Kane got into the driver’s seat and turned to look at her.

“This is a really beautiful car,” Abby said. “So elegant.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it old?”

“Nineteen sixty-three.”

“Oh, wow. Nearly as old as you then.” Abby smirked at him and Kane laughed.

“Haha. I thought we would take the scenic route and then head to the hotel first. I didn’t get chance to go home and change.”

“That sounds great.” Abby settled back into her seat as Kane put the car in gear and headed down the country lane at a lick. He was confident behind the wheel, knew how to handle the car and the narrow roads and tight corners. He drove right on the edge between safe and exhilarating, knowing when to push the boundaries and when to hold back. He would leave Abby and her poor old Volvo in the dust. She watched the countryside flash past in a whirl of orange, green and red. It felt like this was her first proper autumn in England, because in London the only everyday greenery had been the street trees, and the parks were beautiful but they didn’t have the unstructured wildness of this northern countryside.

“I can see why you stayed here,” she said as they sped along a road that seemed to stretch forever.

“It has its attractions.”

“What was Glasgow like?”

“Industrial mainly. Built on the shipping trade because it has a big river and port. It’s a mix of old and new I guess, like most British cities. There’s beautiful countryside around it, though. Have you heard of Loch Lomond?”

“No. The only thing I know about Glasgow is the School of Art. It produced a lot of great artists.”

“It did. Well, Loch Lomond is a huge lake north of Glasgow. Very popular. Like the Lake District here only bigger. Have you been to the Lakes yet?”

“I haven’t, no.” Abby felt guilty at her lack of adventurousness and ambition. She’d come up here for a change but had so far stayed around the local villages and the town. What was she scared of?

“You really need to get out of the town, you know, Abby. We could go there next. I know a great pub where we can stay, superb food.”

Abby listened while Kane told her about Glasgow and the Lake District. He was already planning their next trip and they’d barely started on this one. He was fully invested in their relationship that much was clear. He thought she felt the same, took for granted that there would be a next time and a time after that, saw her in his future, doing things together. She had to make up her mind, decide whether she was in this with him or not, before it all got out of hand. They would have this weekend together, and then she would decide. Go back to simple, or go full in, and if she wanted simple there was no guarantee Kane would, so that would be the end of them. The thought gave her a sick feeling in her stomach, and this wasn’t the way she wanted to start off what should be a fun weekend. She buried her thoughts, watched Kane’s handsome face as he talked and drove. He was in control of himself, confident, sexy. She put her hand on his where it gripped the steering wheel, and he turned briefly to look at her and smiled. They crested a rise in the road and the sea lay before them, grey as ever even beneath this deep blue sky.

They entered Blackpool from the north and Abby could see the Tower as they drove more sedately now Kane was subject to a lower speed limit and more traffic. The town was built-up on one side of the road, row after row of hotels in gaudy pinks, blues and yellows. On the right, a set of tram tracks separated them from a walkway and then the sea. The tide was in, and Abby was disappointed because she’d wanted to walk along the beach. Lightbulbs in various shapes hung from every lamppost, and a tram crawled alongside them, shaped like a train.

“It will look nicer later,” said Kane, anticipating her thoughts, “when it’s dark and the lights are switched on.”

“It’s fine. I’m excited to see our hotel,” she said, although in truth she was fearful judging by the state of some of the hotels and guesthouses they were passing. She was glad Kane had persuaded her not to stay in one of these.

The Tower got closer, drawing her to it. It dominated the town, filtering blue sky through its red girders. It did resemble a smaller Eiffel Tower. As they got closer a pier stretched out into the sea, covered with a jumble of clumsy buildings. North Pier Amusements it said. The street widened and a tram shaped like a boat went past in the other direction. The hotels were gone and now the road was lined with small shops, giftshops, rock shops, fish and chip shops, bars and diners. This was more like it.

“Can we have fish and chips?” Abby said as they stopped at traffic lights outside a shop selling them.

“I thought we’d have dinner in the hotel. It has great food,” said Kane frowning.

“We can have a nice dinner anytime. How often are we going to have fish and chips next to the sea?”

“I will cook it for you next time you come to my house and you can sit on my patio and look at the sea.”

“Please,” she said, looking at him with eyebrows raised, eyes wide. She didn’t know if this look would work on him because she’d never had to deploy it before, and he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would be easily moved by such a gesture.

Kane rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Abby sat back, satisfied with her win, and watched the shops go past until the tower was upon them, rising out of a red brick building, its feet hidden as though they weren’t fit to be seen, or contained some great mythological secret like in the Dan Brown books she’d lied to Kane about reading. More chip shops, gift shops and rock shops went past, and they approached another pier, this one with a Ferris Wheel on it. Central Pier. They were definitely going on that later. The shops gave way to hotels again and the Tower receded into the distance. The buildings were scruffier and the lights were fewer as though they didn’t want to highlight the dismal nature of this part of town. Where the hell was this hotel? Ahead, looking as though it looped over the road was a roller coaster, and it was so unexpected and incongruous Abby took a sharp breath.

“Are you okay?” said Kane.

“Yes. Is that a roller coaster?”

“Yes, it’s Blackpool Pleasure Beach.”

“Oh, wow.”

“That’s where we’re staying,” he said.

“What? At the Pleasure Beach?”

“Next to it.”

“You got us a hotel next to a roller coaster? Awesome.” Abby was so surprised she could do nothing but look up at the twisting, looping structure as a train of cars filled with people crested the rise and held there, suspended in the air, before falling. She cranked the window down in Kane’s car and could hear the screams of joy and fear as the cars plunged out of view. Kane turned off the main road and into the car park of a large hotel.

“The hotel is named after the roller coaster,” he said before getting out and going around to the boot to take out their bags. He slung his over his shoulder and carried Abby’s, ignoring her outstretched hand as she went to take it from him. They entered a reception area with a polished floor and dark wooden furniture and Kane went up to the desk.

“Reservation in the name of Kane,” he said to the receptionist, and Abby’s stomach flipped. It was natural he would give his name for the reservation; he wasn’t going to say Griffin and Kane was he, but nevertheless it made her heart beat faster. They were the Kanes for the duration of this trip, and the thought made her hot and want to laugh at the same time. She hadn’t stayed in a hotel with a man since she was dating her ex-husband twenty years before. Back then they’d booked in as Mr and Mrs Griffin even though they weren’t married because it wasn’t the done thing to be unmarried and sharing a bed, and it made their weekend seem illicit and naughty. Despite twenty years and a lifetime of experience, she felt the same way now.

“Am I Mrs Kane?” she said with a smile as Kane turned to her, key card in hand.

He frowned and then smiled. “If you want to be,” he said, and then he turned and led the way to the lift, so Abby couldn’t see his face and he couldn’t see hers, which was probably just as well, because she thought she had gone red.

They got out of the lift on the top floor, and their room wasn’t a room but a suite. There was a living room with an L-shaped sofa, wooden coffee table and long wooden unit containing a TV. A desk and two chairs were in the corner. Sliding doors led to a bedroom with a huge bed. Abby went into the bedroom, poked her head around another door that held an enormous bathroom with his and hers sinks and a shower that could fit a soccer team in it.

“Marcus, oh my God!” She turned to look at him, shocked at the size of the room. It must be costing a fortune.

“Do you like it?” he said, setting their bags down on the floor next to the table.

“It’s beautiful.” She wanted to say it was too much, because it was, but it felt churlish to say that when he had organised it and paid for it. “You shouldn’t have,” she settled for saying.

“Of course I should,” he said, putting his arms around her waist. “I like to stay in good places, and I’m happy to share it with you.”

Abby relaxed into his arms. He would probably stay here whether she was with him or not, and it was arrogant of her to think he’d done it for her benefit.

“I love it,” she said.

“Good.” Kane bent his head and kissed her. “Do you want to try out that bed?”

“Now?”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting for this moment since Wednesday. Don’t make me wait any longer, Abby.” He took her hand and led her into the bedroom and it wasn’t long before he’d divested her of all her clothes and they were rolling around the huge bed, limbs entwined, fucking all the frustrations of the last week away.

Afterwards, Abby washed and dressed and sat in the living room flicking through the hotel’s brochure while Kane showered and changed. There was a gym and a fancy dining room and free entry to the Pleasure Beach for premium guests which she presumed she and Kane were. She wondered if she could persuade him onto the roller coaster before they left. Kane came into the living room and Abby looked up from her brochure. Her breath caught in her throat he looked so handsome. He was wearing black jeans tucked into his combat boots and a grey flecked zipped jumper beneath a black woollen jacket with military-style lapels. His hair was soft and wavy.

“Very handsome,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” She stood up and went over to him, adjusted the collar of his jumper where it was folded beneath the jacket. She kissed his lips. “Shall we go?”

He took her hand and they left the room, heading for the lift. “I thought we’d take a tram to the north pier and then walk back through the lights. It will be dark by the time we get there and the illuminations will be on.”

“Sounds great. And we can have fish and chips.”

“Yes, we can have fish and chips.” He sighed but he was smiling.

The tram was an ordinary one not decorated with lights which disappointed Abby, but as she looked out of the window the road they’d driven in along was transforming as night fell and the colourful lights from the shops spilled out onto the street. There were people everywhere, more people in one place than she’d seen since she moved to Lancashire. Blackpool was coming alive. As they stepped out onto the promenade at the North Pier the illuminations flickered on and suddenly there was light everywhere. The tram that was shaped like a train passed again and it was now brightly lit in greens and reds and yellows.

“That’s awesome,” Abby said as she watched it go past. “I hope we can get on that later.”

Kane looked at her in amusement. “I never thought Blackpool would be entertaining for me again but you are making it so.”

“It’s fun,” she said, and she squeezed his hand and stood on her toes to kiss him. They walked hand in hand beneath glittering stars and huge baubles. The Tower in the distance was outlined in red and white lights and a bright light was zig zagging up and down its length. Cars were nose to tail along the road, their headlights and brake lights adding to the illumination, the drivers inching along, young children hanging out of the back windows staring up at the lights.

“It must be terrible for the residents having this every year,” said Kane as he pulled Abby out of the path of a marauding child waving a green lightstick.

“Trust you to think practically. Oh, they have cotton candy!” She led Kane to a shop where a young man was standing next to a spinning machine, holding a stick to catch the strands. “I’m going to have some. How much?” she said to the young man. He told her and she handed over two pound coins. He gave her the cotton candy and she held it out to Kane. “Want some?”

“It’s pure sugar,” he said with distaste.

“So?” Abby took a bite and the candy melted into a sticky mess in her mouth. “Lovely,” she said, and smirked at Kane, her lips sticky with sugar.

“Go on then,” he said, and he leaned in and ate a mouthful, grimacing as he chewed on it. “It hasn’t improved since I was a kid,” he said.

“Were you ever a kid?” said Abby, struggling to see Kane as anything other than a fully formed adult.

“Of course, but I had taste even then.”

“You make me laugh,” said Abby linking her arm through Kane’s.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Oh, definitely.”

They walked further, keeping pace with a car that had a small girl hanging out of the back who kept smiling at Abby. Abby smiled back, waved, and the girl’s head disappeared back into the car, high-pitched giggles drifting out from the window. They arrived at an amusement arcade.

“Oh, we have to go in here,” said Abby. Kane followed her with that amused smile on his face again and Abby was delighted to see they had one of those claw machines where you had to grab a toy. “Are you going to try and win one of those for me?” she said.

Kane shook his head. “They’re biased. You always think you’ve got it but then it is designed to loosen its grip.”

“That may be, but it’s traditional isn’t it, that a man wins a toy for his girl?”

Kane rummaged in his pocket, shaking his head as he pulled out some coins. He fed them into the slot. “What do you want me to win, Mrs Kane?”

Abby raised an eyebrow at the name. She examined the contents of the glass box.

“The red squirrel,” she said, pointing to a small fluffy toy. “I like squirrels.”

Kane manoeuvred the grabbing arm meticulously, got hold of the squirrel but it dropped before he could get it back to the chute. “Told you,” he said.

“If anyone can do it, you can,” said Abby to encourage him. He tried twice more and on the third time his patience paid off and the toy dropped into the chute and out of the slot. He handed it to Abby and she took it, giving him a long, slow kiss as a reward. “Thank you,” she said.

“I would do it a hundred times if I got a kiss like that,” he said.

“one toy is enough,” said Abby as she slipped it into her purse. “And one kiss, for now.”

They spent a half hour wandering round the arcade, playing the games. Abby won a pound in two pence pieces on the coin pusher but then lost it again trying to dislodge a ten-pound note that fluttered tantalisingly close to the edge, seeming to defy gravity as it hovered over the chute below but never fell. Kane was standing to the side playing on his phone when she turned around to get his commiseration over her failure.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“I’m googling the best fish and chip shop,” he replied. “I don’t like the look of the ones we’ve passed.”

“Oh. Is there a good one?”

“Yes. There’s one on the next block. Are you hungry?”

“I am!”

They walked to the next block and stood in a long line of people waiting to order food. The smell coming from the shop was making Abby’s stomach rumble. Finally, they got to the front of the queue and Kane ordered two portions.

“Do you want salt and vinegar?” the lady behind the counter asked her.

“I don’t know.” Abby turned to Kane. “Do I?”

“It’s traditional,” Kane replied.

“Then yes,” said Abby, and the server gave her a warm paper package that heated her cold hands. “Thank you.”

“Let’s find a seat on the promenade,” said Kane, and they crossed the road and the tram tracks. Abby was delighted to see the tide had gone out enough to expose the dark sand. They sat on the sea wall, their legs dangling over the edge, and Abby unwrapped her food. The smell that came out was heavenly. The battered fish was golden brown and crispy and the chips were soft and fluffy.

“This is so good,” she said to Kane with a mouthful of chips.

“It is, actually,” he replied. Seagulls squawked as they flew overhead, and one stood on the wall next to Kane, eyeing him up. “Don’t you dare,” he said, staring at it, but it did dare, and in the blink of an eye it had risen into the air and dive-bombed Kane’s food, flying away with a fat chip in its beak. “Cheeky bugger!” he exclaimed. He looked down at his food with a grimace and Abby knew he wouldn’t eat any more.

“You can have some of mine,” she said, holding her paper out to him.

“Thanks.” He took a few chips and Abby broke the remainder of her fish in half and they shared the rest of the meal. When they’d finished Kane took the waste and put it in a nearby bin. He returned to his seat on the wall and put his arm around Abby. She leaned into him.

“I love the smell of the sea,” she said. “It’s the same everywhere. If I close my eyes now I could be in Santa Monica.”

“It’s mostly rotting seaweed and algae you can smell,” Kane said, and Abby hit him hard on the arm.

“Do you have no romance in you?” she said.

“When it’s called for,” he replied, and then he leaned in and took her head in his hands and kissed her, long and sweet, his lips tasting of the seaside.

“Get a room!” a voice shouted out, making Kane and Abby jump. Abby turned around to see two young men looking at them and laughing as they walked along the promenade.

“I wish we were in our room right now,” Kane whispered.

“I know, me too. Shall we walk on the beach?”

“In the dark?”

“I’d hardly call it dark with the entire town illuminated. They can probably see us from the moon.”

“Who’s they?”

“The people who live on the moon,” said Abby with a grin.

Kane laughed and jumped down from the sea wall. He held out his hand to Abby and she grabbed it and jumped down as well. They walked away from the pebbles to where the sand was softer. There was no one else around.

“Is Blackpool what you expected, then?” Kane said.

“Oh, way better,” Abby replied. “I was dubious when we first came into the town, and you were right about the other hotels.”

“You admit that now, do you?”

“I never really denied it; I just thought it would be fun, but our hotel suite is amazing.”

“I’ve only stayed there once before, at a conference, and that wasn’t in the suite.”

“Thank you for arranging it.”

“It was definitely my pleasure,” he replied, smirking at her, and they stopped again to kiss, and Abby felt the familiar heat rising.

“Let’s go under the pier,” she whispered, dragging Kane behind her as she made her way to the dark wooden structure that dominated this part of the beach. Music and laughter and the sound of the slot machines beeping and whirring filtered down from above, but she could still hear the sound of the sea lapping at the shore and the seagulls squabbling.

“What are we doing under here?” said Kane, looking around with his face contorted into a look of disgust.

“Have you never kissed under a boardwalk? There’s a song about it, you know.” said Abby.

“I know, and I imagine the writers had some sunny Californian pier in mind when they wrote it, not a dirty British one.”

“Shush,” she said, and she pulled his arms around her waist and stood on her toes to wrap hers around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He groaned as the kiss deepened, pressed himself to her. His cock was pulsing against her. Abby brought her hand down to his arse, and then round to the front, squeezing his cock through his jeans.

“What are you doing?” Kane moaned.

“Being naughty.”

“God, you are so naughty. Someone could see us.” He looked around, but he didn’t stop her.

“There’s no one here.” She unzipped his jeans, slipped her hand inside beneath his shorts and pulled out his cock.

“Oh, Abby,” Kane said, his hands gripping her arms.

“No one will see,” she said, and she bent her knees, sat back on her haunches, hovering above the sand, and leant forward to take his cock into her mouth.

“Fuck!” said Kane with a strangled cry as she gave him a long, deep suck.  

Abby smiled, and then she sucked him until his fingers were twisting in her hair, and he was thrusting into her mouth, his moans echoing between the wooden pillars. He came with a long groan, and she licked every drop before standing to look at him. His head was back, his eyes closed. Abby glanced around to make sure they were still unseen. She reached into her purse, brought out a tissue and wiped him clean with it before tucking his softening cock back in his pants and zipping him up.

Kane looked at her, his eyes flint-like in the pale moonlight. She thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He reached out and grabbed the waistband of her jeans, pulling her to him hard. Abby gasped. He popped the button, yanked the zip down and shoved his hand inside, all before she had chance to catch a breath. He put his palm flat on her crotch, fingers curling beneath her, the tips of them pushing inside her.

“Aah!” Abby cried out as he fucked her roughly with his fingers. She pushed her jeans down further so he had more room. His other hand slipped beneath her jumper, grabbing her breast. He wasn’t gentle with either hand, twisting her nipple with his left hand while his right had one then two fingers inside her, thrusting in and out, his thumb slippery on her clit. All the time he held her gaze, watched her as her face contorted with the pleasure of it, her mouth open as she breathed heavily.

“Fuck, fuck,” she said as her sex grew hot and she came, muscles sucking greedily at his fingers. She let out a shaky sigh when he finally withdrew from her. He sucked his fingers clean, then he zipped her back up like she had done to him. He gave her that double eyebrow raise, staring deep into her eyes, and then he took her hand and led her out from beneath the pier.

“Shall we get back to the lights?” he said nonchalantly, as though the last few minutes hadn’t happened.

“Yes,” replied Abby, and her sex throbbed and got warm again as she thought about how she’d barely scraped the surface of Marcus Kane.

They walked along the beach and back up the steps to the promenade. The pier they had just been under was buzzing with noise and people, and it was the one with the huge Ferris Wheel towering above it. It was brightly lit in rainbow colours. Abby looked at it then looked at Kane.

“No,” he said, shaking his head vehemently.

Abby stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “We just did what we did under the pier but you’re too chicken to go on the Wheel?”

“It’s not natural to be swung about in the air like that,” he said, his breath tickling the side of her face.

“You’ve been in an airplane, though, right?”

“Under duress.”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, I promise,” she said with a grin.

Kane sighed. “Why do I always give in to you?”

“Oh, you know why.” Abby smirked and then she took his hand and led him to the short queue. The wheel came to a halt a minute later and soon they were sitting in an open gondola and were lifting into the air. “Do you want to hold my hand?” she teased.

Kane’s look was withering. The wheel turned, and the air grew chilled. Abby shivered, and Kane put his arm around her, held her tight to him. The whole of the Blackpool strip was laid out before them like a long, colourful snake. In the far distance was the roller coaster next to where they were staying lit up in blue and red, and to her left the bright lights chased each other up and down the Tower.

Abby looked up at Kane. He was gazing at the view but his eyes seemed unfocused, like he wasn’t really looking. He shifted when he felt her movement, looked down at her and smiled.

“It’s so colourful,” Abby said. “And so much fun.”

“Yes. I’d forgotten how much fun this place could be.”

He leaned in to kiss her and they spent the rest of the ride oblivious to the sights and sounds of Blackpool.

When they stepped back onto firm ground Abby was freezing, and Kane’s nose had gone red with cold.

“Shall we head back to the hotel?” he said. “Get warm.”

“I like the sound of that, but I want to go on the tram that looks like a train.”

“It could be ages before that comes along,” Kane groaned.

“No. I can see it in the distance. It’s heading our way.” They walked quickly to the tram stop and were soon sitting inside the tram, slightly warmer but not by much. From inside Abby could see the coloured lights that surrounded her window but other than that it felt like being inside any old tram. Kane was quiet, and she wondered if she’d been too much for him. He lived a silent, isolated life outside of work and she’d hijacked him, brought him to the noisiest, busiest place in Lancashire and forced him to do everything she wanted to do. He’d indulged her every whim and as she thought back over the evening she realised she hadn’t thought to ask him what he wanted to do. When they got back to their hotel she would let him take the lead. Whatever he wanted, she would do. She didn’t speak, left him to find what peace he could crammed into this carriage with excited children and fraught adults.

“Would you like a drink in the bar?” Kane said as they entered their hotel.

“That would be lovely,” replied Abby in the spirit of doing whatever he wanted, not that she didn’t want a drink because she was gasping for something, anything.

He went to the bar and returned with two glasses of champagne, and the waiter appeared a moment later with the rest of the bottle nestling in a silver bucket of ice.

“Are you planning on getting me drunk?” Abby laughed as she took a sip of her drink. It tasted good, and warming, the bubbles fizzing through her veins. She sat back against the plush leather and relaxed.

“No,” said Kane. “I just thought it would be a nice way to end the day.”

“It is.”

“We could order dessert, if you want, from the restaurant.”

Abby wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t want to be too full for when they went to bed later, but if it was what he wanted. “Oh, if you want to we could.”

Kane took a sip of his drink. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Me either.”

Kane smiled and looked away, frowning at something near the bar. “That guy is staring at you,” he said, and Abby followed his gaze to a young man with closely cropped hair and wearing a sharp suit. The man raised his glass to her when she looked at him. “Bloody cheek!” said Kane.

Abby smiled at his annoyed tone. “It’s fine, Marcus.”

“I suppose you get that a lot.”

“Not really.” The man turned back to the bar when she didn’t return his acknowledgement. She didn’t mind being given a compliment as long as that was all it was.

“I’m just going to the men’s room,” said Kane, and he kissed her before striding past the man at the bar and glaring at his back. Abby smiled again. Her smile faltered when the young man turned and came towards her.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” replied Abby out of politeness.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“I already have a drink, as you can see.” She gestured to the bucket of champagne.

“What I mean is, can I lure you away from the old man for a drink with me?”

Old man! Cheek of this kid. Marcus was only a couple of years older than Abby.

“No thank you. I’m quite happy with the old man.” Abby turned her eyes from the man to signal that she was done talking to him but to her horror he slid into Kane’s seat.

“I’m Jack,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

“Please leave,” said Abby. “I’m not interested.”

“I can guarantee you I can show you a better time than that guy.”

“I said no. Now you’d better go before he comes back.” Abby looked at Jack. His eyes were unfocused, the pupils large and black. He was high on something. She felt a stab of fear because people high on drugs could be unpredictable.

“Ooh, what’s he going to do? Beat me up?”

Abby had no idea how Kane was going to react when he saw this boy in his seat, harassing her. She wanted to deal with it herself before he returned. “I’ve been polite, and now I’m giving you once last chance to leave before I ask the manager to escort you out.” She glanced around the bar but there was no one near them. The bar tender was at the other end of the room fulfilling a large drink order for a team of rowdy businessmen.

“I’m going to wait here and see what your old man does when he gets back and finds us together,” Jack said, moving closer to Abby, putting his hand on her leg. He leaned in to kiss her and she pushed him off but he was persistent. She was about to shout out loudly for him to get off when Kane’s voice boomed out.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get off her!”

“Ooh, here he is. What are you going to do old man?” Jack laughed and then his laugh turned to a yelp when Kane strode over to him and yanked him out of his seat by his collar. He pushed him to the floor and stood with his foot on Jack’s stomach, preventing him from getting up.

“Get off me!” Jack yelled as he wriggled beneath Kane’s foot.

“Marcus!” said Abby, alarmed at what he might be about to do. The bar had fallen silent, the rowdy businessmen watching, their drinks held suspended. The barman moved towards Kane and Abby.

“Are you going to behave?” Kane said.

Jack wriggled some more, didn’t answer.

“Are you?” Kane leaned over him, put more weight on Jack’s body.

“Yes, yes. Okay.”

Kane bent down, grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “You are not in control here anymore,” he said, then he marched him out of the bar and presumably out of the hotel. The noise level in the bar returned as people chattered, and the barman came over to Abby.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and then went back to serving drinks.

Abby took a large slug of her champagne, coughing as it made her chest burn. Adrenaline was coursing through her body and her heart was racing. She was impressed with how Kane had handled Jack, using his physicality to dominate him without having to use actual violence. Abby’s ex-husband would have hit the guy and started a bar fight. Kane had ended it swiftly. She guessed he had a lot of experience dealing with men like that over his prison career. 

Kane returned and reclaimed his seat next to Abby. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s fine. I was handling it.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt, yes, of course. I saw red when I walked in and he was all over you, that’s all. I took over. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was pretty sexy actually.”

Kane raised his eyebrows. “Was it?”

“Yeah, the way you pulled him out of his seat. He wasn’t expecting that.”

“He called me an old man!” said Kane indignantly.

“He did. He told me he could show me a better time than you.” Abby inched closer to Kane who put his hand on hers.

“What did you say?” Kane’s hand slipped to her thigh, stroked it.

“I didn’t say anything, it was none of his business, but if I had….” She put her hand on his thigh, stroked him like he was doing to her, her fingertips straying as close to his crotch as she dared given their public visibility.

“If you had?” Kane said in a low voice, his fingers sliding up beneath her jumper, caressing the bare skin of her stomach.

“If I had, I’d have said it’s not possible.” Abby glanced around and then she put her hand on his crotch, rubbed it.

Kane groaned. “Shall we go to our room?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Kane picked up the bucket of champagne and held it in front of him as he stood up. Abby picked up her bag and followed him to the lift. Once inside Kane put the bucket on the floor and they grabbed hold of each other, hands sliding over every part of their bodies, kissing and pressing hard to each other until the bell pinged and the door opened with a sigh.

They stumbled to their room and Kane put the champagne on the table. They kissed again and he took off her cardigan, started to undo her jeans.

“Wait, wait,” panted Abby.

“What?”

“I have something, just wait a minute.” She went into the bedroom then shut herself in the bathroom.

“Don’t be long,” shouted Kane through the door.

“Patience,” Abby shouted back. She got undressed, washed, and then brushed her teeth. It was strange to see his toiletries lined up above his basin and her things scattered around hers. She examined his hairbrush; still no hairs in it. It was one of the great mysteries about him. She smiled and replaced the brush exactly where it had been. His cologne was on the shelf and she opened it, dabbed some on her wrist and behind her ear. Then she pulled out of her bag the slip she’d worn the other night, the one he’d liked so much, and put it on. Her hair was wild from the wind but she didn’t bother putting her brush through it; it was only going to get messed up again. Satisfied that she looked as hot as possible, she opened the bathroom door and stood looking at Kane who was lying on the bed naked.

He raised his eyebrow when he saw her, a smirk appearing on his face.

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked this slip?”

“Oh, I do.”

“Then what are you smirking at?”

“Where you’re standing, with the light behind you, that slip is virtually see-through.”

“No?”

Kane nodded. “It’s very nice. Very, very nice.”

Abby did a slow twirl, letting him see her from every angle. Kane groaned. “What?” she said.

“You. The way you look. Come here.”

Abby got on the bed and crawled over to Kane, settling on his thighs. She leaned forward, her slip gaping open, and kissed him. He reached up to caress her breasts through the material. Abby put her hand between them, stroked his cock.

“Move further up,” Kane said. “Sit on my face.”

Abby’s sex throbbed at his words. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She started to pull off her slip but Kane stopped her. “Leave it on,” he said. Abby crawled slowly over Kane, let her body slide over his, until she was on her knees and hovering above his face. He put his hands on her cheeks and lowered her to him. His tongue was like white heat on her sex, and Abby grabbed the headboard so she could rock over him, guide his tongue as it opened her up, sliding up and down between her lips. The sounds of pleasure he was making as he devoured her turned her on even more, and soon she was rocking faster and faster and Kane was gripping her arse, his fingers pressing into her flesh. When she came, he held her in place, didn’t let her move, and kept swirling his tongue oh so gently around her lips, softly, carefully, until the heat was building again and she came for the second time. He sucked greedily at her until she was spent and she crawled off him and flopped onto her back.

“It should be illegal what you can do with that tongue,” she said, and he laughed.

“It’s not just my tongue I’m good with,” he said, and he stroked his cock.

“I might need to get my breath back first,” Abby said.

“You don’t need to do anything. Turn over,” he replied.

Abby turned onto her stomach, anticipation making her heart race. Kane straddled her and pushed her slip up over her arse, and then he parted her cheeks and rubbed his cock along her slit. He pushed into her, all the way in without stopping, pressing her into the mattress, and she groaned. Then he slid out and all the way back in and it was clear from the power of his thrust that he wasn’t going to spare her. It was like it had been under the pier, when he fucked her with his fingers, not bothering to be gentle, and it had been so hot Abby had had to fight not to come too quickly.

She turned her head to the side so she wasn’t smothered by the pillow and Kane fucked her, slamming into her, bringing cry after cry from her lips. He lay over her, pulled her hair away from her neck and kissed her there.

“You smell of me,” he said, and he groaned loudly.

“I love the way you smell,” she murmured.

He moaned and kissed her neck and her shoulders while his hips ground against her. Abby was pinned beneath him and she couldn’t lift her hips to meet him even if she had the energy.

“You excite me so much,” he whispered in her ear as he slammed into her and Abby’s cry was so loud she was glad there was no other room near theirs.

She came again with a strangled cry and Kane pumped into her faster and faster until he too was groaning as he exploded inside her. He collapsed on top of her and the only sound in the room was their laboured breathing. Kane rolled onto his back before he crushed her beneath his weight and Abby stayed on her front for a moment. She had never thought sex with Kane would be like this. She recalled the night at the Town Hall when she’d seen the volunteer in the Kane for Mayor t-shirt and she’d imagined Kane fucking her earnestly while she wore it. There was nothing earnest about Marcus Kane. All his stiffness, his uptight, bottled-up ways disappeared when he was in bed with her. Had he always been this way or was it something she brought out in him?

He put his hand on her arm, stroked it. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

She turned over so she could look at him. “No, God, no. It was fantastic. I was just. I’m surprised, that’s all, every time we have sex. It’s so good.”

“You didn’t think sex with me would be good?” Kane searched her face while he waited for her reply.

Abby nearly laughed at how close he had come to her earlier line of thought. “It’s not that. It’s how good it is, how great we are together.”

Kane looked into her eyes, his own eyes dark and flecked with amber from the lamplight. “I’ve realised something recently. You can have good sex with anyone, but you can only have great sex with someone special.”

Abby’s butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his words. There was no doubting how he felt about her. Everything he’d done today was all the evidence she needed. The way he’d given in to her, done everything she wanted, stood up for her, protected her, and made her feel like the sexiest woman who’d ever lived. It was intoxicating, but it had the potential to be suffocating. He was an all or nothing kind of man.

“Am I complicating everything?” he said when she didn’t reply.

“I think it’s already complicated.”

“And you don’t know how you feel about that?”

“No,” she replied, because it was the truth, and there was no point lying or trying to hide it at this stage. He deserved to know how she was feeling.

“It’s okay,” he said, and he stroked her face. “I won’t push you.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Why don’t we get drunk on the rest of this champagne and not think about anything for the rest of the night?”

Abby nodded and he padded into the other room to retrieve the bottle and their glasses. He got back in bed and poured them a glass each and switched on the TV. Casablanca was on the movie channel. “Do you want to watch this?” he said.

“Yes. I love this film.”

“Me too.”

They settled back on the bed and drank champagne while they watched the film. Abby had told herself she would take the whole weekend to make up her mind about him, but she didn’t need it. She’d made her decision. She just had to tell him what it was, but not here, not now. She’d wait until they got home before she told him. 


	10. Decision Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby makes up her mind about Kane, but it's not all smooth sailing.

Abby woke the next day to find Kane pressed up behind her with his arm draped over hers. He was snoring faintly, his breaths tickling the back of her neck. She glanced at the clock; it was only six-thirty and breakfast wouldn’t be coming until eight. There was time to try and get back to sleep perhaps but it didn’t happen; she was too awake. She wondered what they would do today, whether she would get Kane to go on the roller coaster, whether they would go straight back to her place or spend the rest of the weekend at his. He hadn’t mentioned his plans; he was probably busy with his campaign, and she needed to talk to him about that. A more immediate concern was how he was going to cope sharing a bathroom with her this morning. She would make an extra effort to keep it tidy after she’d used it, wipe all the surfaces down, not let her toiletries spread all over the room like they did at home. She was drawing a line at picking all the hairs out of her brush, though; that was a step down the road to Kane’s level of obsessiveness. She wanted to help him manage his obsessions, not join him.

Abby brought Kane’s arm around to her front and tucked it beneath hers, stroking his warm skin. He groaned in his sleep and shifted closer to her and his cock was warm and heavy against her bare arse. She pressed back against him and was rewarded with a moan and his cock pulsed and started to swell.

“Morning,” Kane mumbled into her hair.

“Morning,” said Abby. This was so different to the last time they’d slept together, when he had tentatively allowed her to snuggle into him and had left her to wake up alone. “Are you awake?”

“Just about.” He moved his arm so he could pull her hair back and press a kiss to the side of her neck. Abby moaned, and he kissed her again. He slid his hand down her side to her hip, and then to her arse, caressing her cheek, his fingers tantalisingly close to her sex, which pulsed as her desire grew. “Do you want this?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said, and she curled her legs forward so he could access her better. His fingers slipped between her cheeks, finding her lips and stroking her, the tip of one dipping inside her, feeling how ready she was. She was more than ready. He took hold of his cock and eased it inside her from behind and Abby pushed back so it slid all the way in. They rocked together lazily, Kane’s hand on her breast, teasing her nipple, Abby’s hand between her legs, stroking herself without much intent. It was the opposite to what they’d done the night before, unhurried and languid, the pleasure building slowly. They were in complete unison, their breaths quickening at the same time, their moans rising in pitch. Abby stroked herself faster as Kane’s thrusts increased and her orgasm flowed in waves that kept coming as Kane fucked her harder to his own climax. He held her tight afterwards, his lips grazing her hair as he slowed his breathing.

“The best way to wake up,” Kane said.

“Mmmm,” replied Abby, and she turned so she could put her arms around his neck and kiss him. The kiss was long and slow and somehow Abby ended up lying on top of Kane as they kissed. When they broke apart she rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

“What are we going to do today?” Abby said as she lay still, enjoying the sensation of Kane caressing her back and arse with his hands.

“I’m going to take you to lunch so I can have the good food I was denied yesterday,” Kane said, and Abby bounced up and down as his chest heaved with laughter at his own comment.

“You enjoyed the fish and chips, don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“Maybe, and the seagull definitely did.”

Abby laughed. “Where are we going?!

“I thought the Inn at Whitewell. Have you been there before?”

“I haven’t heard of it.”

“Oh, well it’s only a few miles from your cottage, in the Forest of Bowland.”

“Sounds lovely. Am I going to get you on the roller coaster before we leave Blackpool?”

She could feel Kane shake his head. “No way.”

“Okay.” Abby didn’t press him. Roller coasters weren’t for everyone and she’d pushed at his boundaries enough for one weekend.

Kane stroked her head. “I’m going to use the bathroom and grab a shower while I’m in there, before breakfast comes.”

Abby rolled off him and watched as he got up and headed to the bathroom. The back view of him was just as nice as the front view, his muscles stretching beneath his skin, his arse firm and curved. She sighed with pleasure. He was a feast for the eyes.

Kane was still in the bathroom when there was a knock at the door and Abby pulled her cardigan on over her slip and went to answer it. The busboy set out the breakfast they’d ordered late last night while tipsy on champagne. Abby rummaged in her purse for a tip and then shut the door behind the boy. Kane emerged from the bathroom a minute later wearing shorts and a black t-shirt.

“Breakfast is here,” said Abby, and they sat down to plough their way through scrambled eggs, pastries and fruit.

“What were we thinking last night?” said Kane as he pushed his plate away and rubbed his stomach.

“I think we had the munchies after all the champagne. I’m going to take my croissant home.” Abby wrapped it in tissue and tucked it into her bag. She spotted the squirrel Kane had won for her and pulled it out and showed it to him, smiling. He rolled his eyes.     

“Whatever you do, don’t name the thing,” he said.

“You don’t want me to call it Marcus after you?”

“Do you see me as a squirrel?”

“Definitely not.”

Kane nodded, looked at her. He wanted to ask her something and she knew what it was. She waited. “What do you see me as?” he said at last, tidying up their breakfast things as though he wasn’t particularly interested in her answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She smiled as she stood up and pushed back her chair. “I’m going to get a shower,” she said, and left him looking at her, a stack of plates in his hand.

\---

They were on the road for ten, Kane having paid the bill and refused Abby’s offer of a contribution. Abby was wearing a loose grey blouse tucked into white slacks and she had on her Burberry camel-coloured trench coat because it was colder today. Kane had on the same jeans and jacket as the day before but a different jumper, this one inky blue and it suited him wearing some colour. They drove a long, circuitous route towards the Forest of Bowland, stopping numerous times so Kane could point out things of interest to Abby. Over twenty years he’d been living here, and it was clear he had a deep fondness for the area and had explored it at length. He told her stories about witches and wolves, ancient travellers and Royal hunters. Abby was fascinated, and ashamed at how little she knew about her own home state. California had been inhabited by native Americans for thousands of years, but its properly recorded history was two-, maybe three-hundred years old at best. In England people lived in houses that were older than that without giving it a second thought.

They drove over high moorland and beside sheep-dotted fields. The Inn they were headed towards was over seven-hundred years old, or at least part of it was, and Abby was keen to see what it looked like. She’d resisted the urge to Google it on her smartphone while Kane was racing along the country roads. Let it be a surprise. Soon the road was carved out between tall trees and green verges and Kane said there was a river, but it was hidden by a long line of trees in autumn leaf. The first sign of human life was a small stone church and Kane turned off the road, past the church and pulled up outside a large white house that was attached to a long, stone building with mullioned windows and capped with a slate roof littered with chimney pots. It was the grandest pub Abby had ever seen. The pubs in London were old some of them, and the one in her town was four-hundred years old like the Town Hall, but this building was on a different scale to those.

Kane opened the car door for Abby and they walked into a reception with exposed beams and dark oak furniture. They were shown a corner table next to a large open fire with a view across the lawn to the river. A mist was rising, giving the scene an ethereal quality. The waiter gave them the wine menu and Abby perused it.

“Shall we have a glass? I know you’re driving.”

“I can have one, and you can have what you like. We’ll get a bottle and take the rest home.”

“Okay. Oh, they have a Californian Pinot Noir. Let’s order that.”

Kane grimaced at her suggestion. “Abby, they have the best French wines here, what about a Fleurie? It’s like autumn in a bottle.”

“I’d like the Pinot Noir.” She crossed her arms, stared him down. He was a wine snob and she wasn’t at all surprised.

Kane played with his bottom lip. He wasn’t happy with her choice and Abby felt some guilt after he’d given in to her fish and chips whim the day before, but she found French wines heavy and bitter, and it would be nice to have a taste of home here in this very English countryside. The waiter returned to take their order and Kane deferred to Abby. She told him what she wanted with her head held high.

“You’re such a snob,” she said when the waiter had left them to look at the lunch menu.

“I have taste that’s all.” Kane pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on to look at the menu.

“You don’t even know what this wine is like.”

“I can imagine,” he said, looking up at her, his glasses perched on his nose. He was like a disapproving schoolmaster and Abby was both turned on and annoyed with him at the same time. She bit back any further comment.

“I think I’ll have the mulled figs and then the fish pie,” said Kane, closing his menu and putting it on the table. He took off his glasses and put them back in his pocket. It was a shame because they suited him.

“I like the look of the salmon,” said Abby.

“That’s Scottish,” said Kane.

“Is it? From Glasgow?”

Kane laughed. “I don’t think the River Clyde is famous for its salmon fishing. No, it’s from the north west coast.”

“I’d like to visit Scotland one day, I think.”

“Would you?”

“Yes. I should get around more while I’m here. It’s only a couple of hours away like you said.”

“While you’re here,” repeated Kane in a quiet voice, and Abby regretted her choice of words.

“I….” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because the waiter was back with their wine and to take their food order. She opted for Lancashire cheese and onion pie as her main course and then sat back while Kane poured her a large glass of the wine. He poured himself the tiniest glass, and Abby glowered at him.

“Try it,” she said.

He held it to his lips as though it was a glass of poison, and she watched while he screwed up his face before taking a sip.

“For heaven’s sake, Marcus! It’s not going to kill you.”

He swallowed the wine and then took another sip.

“Well?” said Abby in a cross voice.

“It’s not bad,” he sniffed. “More full-bodied than I’d imagined it would be, and it has plenty of fruit.”

“That’s Californian sunshine in that bottle, Marcus! It’s what I’m made of.”

“Then I stand by my description,” he said, and smirked at her.

Abby batted him with a napkin, and they were both smiling again. Their starters arrived and they were silent while they tucked into their meals. Abby’s salmon was oak-smoked and wafer-thin but full of flavour. It melted onto her tongue. “How are your figs?” she said to Kane.

“Sticky,” he said. “Do you want to try one?”

Abby used her fork to prong one of the figs on Kane’s plate, surprised he was letting her near his food. “It’s lovely,” she said.

“Yes. The food here is always excellent.”

Abby contemplated Kane while he finished his starter. He must come here a lot. On his own? With someone else? Did he bring all his conquests here to impress them? He may live a quiet life out on his headland, but it was a lavish one. His house was self-built and expensive. His car was old but she suspected it probably cost more than a new one and while she didn’t know much about British car makers she knew Aston Martin was high end. James Bond drove this car for heaven’s sake! Kane stayed in the best hotels, ate at the best restaurants. How did he afford all of this on a prison governor’s salary? Diana Sydney had said he could afford to pay Abby out of his own money, so his wealth was known about around the town. She wanted to ask him about it but how do you bring up such a subject when you’re dating someone without sounding like you’re only after their money?

“The wine is growing on me,” Kane said as he pushed his plate to one side and took another sip.

How little she knew about him really. He was divorced but she didn’t even know his wife’s name or what happened. He went to university, he never became a politician, he had obsessive compulsive disorder. That was it. The sum total of her knowledge of Marcus Kane. It was her own fault she knew so little, but now if, IF, they were going to be spending more time together then she needed to know more about the man.

“What are you thinking about?” said Kane with a frown.

This should be the perfect opportunity, but it wasn’t the right time. She didn’t want his ex-wife intruding into their lovely weekend together.

“Just what a nice weekend it has been.”

Kane sat back, turned to look at Abby. “It’s not over yet.”

“What else do you have in mind?”

“Well, I could take you home after this, or you could come back to mine and I could take you home tomorrow.”

“I can come back to your place, yes. I want to talk to you about your campaign anyway. I have some publicity suggestions for you.”

“Oh, Okay.” Kane looked disappointed with her answer for some reason, then he brightened again.  “I have a surprise for you, actually.”

“Ooh, do you? What is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Abby smiled and then their waiter appeared with their main courses and Abby looked at her enormous slice of pie and neat stack of chips and she took a deep breath before diving in. The pie was good, creamy and cheesy, but she couldn’t manage it all.

“Is there something wrong with your meal?” said Kane as she put her knife and fork on her plate and pushed it away.

“No. I’m just full. We had a big breakfast and then all that salmon.”

“I suppose. We can work it off later.” Kane gave her a suggestive smile.

“I could do with a good walk.” Abby smirked. “There’s enough pie here to do for lunch tomorrow. I’ll get them to box it up and we can take it home.”

Kane looked aghast at her suggestion. “We can’t do that!”

“Why not? We’ve paid for it.”

“It’s just. It’s not the done thing.”

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, it’s not something you do in a restaurant like this, or anywhere.”

“Nonsense. I’m going to ask him.”

The waiter came to remove their plates and Abby could see Kane shrink into his seat as she asked the man to box up the pie for her. The waiter didn’t seem to have a problem with her request and came back a few minutes later with a neat box tied up with a ribbon.

“Thank you,” said Abby, and she gave Kane an imperious look that rivalled one of his.

“Shall we go for a walk by the river before we go back?” he said, seemingly unmoved by her small victory.

“If you wish,” replied Abby, and she put the box in the boot of his car along with the wine bottle before Kane took her hand and they walked around the back of the Inn towards the River Hodder. A heron was stalking a mudbank at one side of the river and he flew away as Kane and Abby approached, looking like something from the Jurassic period as he rose heavily into the air, his huge wings beating majestically.

“I’m sorry if I was too stiff in there,” said Kane as they stopped at a small wooden bridge over the river. “I’m used to rules, I suppose. It’s hard for me to step outside of that.”

“No, I’m sorry. I have a tendency to bulldoze my way into other peoples’ lives and make them do what I want whether they like it or not.” Abby gave a small laugh.

“I like that about you,” said Kane.

“Do you?”

“Yes. You challenge me. I need that.”

“I like that you’re principled and ethical. I even like your stiffness. I guess maybe I need a check and balance sometimes.”

“We’re good for each other,” said Kane, his fingers coming up to caress her face.

Abby’s butterflies woke up and started careening around her stomach, their wings fluttering and making her feel sick. This was the moment. She couldn’t delay it any longer. She had to tell him what she wanted, how she felt.

“Marcus.” She swallowed hard and she saw Kane do the same. His hand stilled on her face, his fingers resting against her sharp cheekbones. She reached up, took his hand away, laced her fingers through his.

“I don’t think there’s any point saying I don’t want things to get complicated because they already are. I think they probably have been since day one.”

“I never meant for this,” Kane said.

“Neither did I.” Abby took a deep breath. “I do want to see where this leads. I want to get to know you better.”

Kane smiled, and his thumb stroked hers. “I’m glad.”

“But! I want to take it slowly. If that’s at all possible.” She gave a small laugh.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

The look Kane gave her told Abby that it was already way too late to take things slowly, but she had to try, and get him to try. She wasn’t ready for declarations of love or living in each other’s pockets. As long as he appreciated that then it would be okay. They could work towards it together.

“Can I kiss you now”? said Kane, and he leaned in and did it anyway without waiting for her answer. Abby put her arms around him and they kissed with the river rushing beneath their feet and misting the air around them.

She had no idea how long they stood like that, but the sky started to turn grey and rain threatened. They returned to Kane’s car and were soon speeding along the lanes back to his house. Kane was smiling the whole way, and Abby couldn’t help but smile as well as she watched the Lancashire countryside flash past them in a blur of autumn colour.  

\---

They arrived at Kane’s house in mid-afternoon. It was raining and he rushed to the door to open it and let Abby inside before retrieving their bags from the boot. He picked up the post that was lying on the doormat and put it on the coffee table.

“You didn’t lock the door again,” said Abby when she realised he hadn’t used a key to get in.

“Sorry. I will lock it while you’re here, I promise.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Kane went into the kitchen to put the kettle on while Abby attempted to light the fire in the stove. When he returned she had struck through half a box of matches but hadn’t got the wood to light. Kane took the box from her, struck a match and within seconds the kindling was alight.

“How did you do that?” said Abby.

“Magic,” replied Kane. “Why don’t you take this while you’re here.” He pressed something into her hand and when Abby looked it was a key.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the spare key. So you can check the door whenever you need to.”

“Marcus!” Abby didn’t know what to say. It was a thoughtful gesture, even though it made her seem vaguely ridiculous, like she was a frightened child.

“I’m bound to forget, so if the door’s left unlocked it’s on you now.”

Abby laughed. “I see.” She tucked the key into the pocket of her slacks.

“Are you going to stay the night?” Kane said.

“In the spare room?”

He smiled. “No, with me.”

“I guess I could.”

“Do you have enough pairs of knickers?” he said as he picked up their bags and headed up the stairs with Abby following.

“I’m prepared for any eventuality,” said Abby.

“Good.” He put their bags on the bed and proceeded to empty his, putting his toiletries in his bathroom, his unworn clothes back in the drawer. “You can use one of those drawers if you like,” he said, and Abby pulled open the top drawer of an old wooden chest with some trepidation. This was just for tonight, for practicality; it wasn’t a permanent drawer. She put her clothes in the drawer and then went to her bathroom with her toiletries. The toothbrush and toothpaste she’d used last time were still in the holder, and a hairbrush had appeared on the shelf above the sink. He’d prepared for her stay. She brushed her hair, reapplied her lip gloss. They were a couple now. An element of bleeding into each other’s lives and spaces was inevitable. It was surprising, that’s all, how quickly he had let her into his private domain. Him asking her to stay last weekend was probably the biggest hurdle and once that was overcome the rest tumbled more easily.

She went into Kane’s bedroom and retrieved her sketches from her bag before heading downstairs. Kane brought two teas to the living area and they sat next to each other on the sofa.

“I’ve brought some designs for a new poster if you want to look at them,” Abby said, and spread the drawings out on the table.

Kane put on his glasses and examined each sketch. “They’re beautiful, Abby.”

“Thank you. I was thinking about your campaign slogan, ‘do whatever it takes’.”

“What about it?”

“It’s a little hard, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think so,” said Kane with a frown. “It says what I mean. I’ll do whatever it takes for the betterment of this town.”

“I’m not sure the last part of that sentence is clear, though.”

“It’s implied.”

“In your head maybe. Look, I’m a complete outsider here. I know very little about the town or its problems and I don’t know all that much about you. To me it says more about you than about what you want to achieve for the town.”

“What do you mean?” Kane removed his glasses, held them in his hand while he looked at her.

“I mean, it sounds like you will do whatever it takes to do anything. To get elected, to be Mayor. It’s like there are no limits. What are you prepared to do? Lie, cheat, steal, kill? Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“I’ve never even thought about it like that.”

“No. That’s because you’re an honest person, but you’re up against Jaha here, and I’ve seen his latest leaflet. It’s not very complimentary to you.”

“I don’t care what he says about me,” said Kane with a dismissive wave of his glasses.

“Well you should, because he’s saying it to your potential voters, and mud sticks. You need to be clearer about your policies and what you’re going to do to help the people of Arkchester. Let him come across as the mean, petty one who can only win by belittling his opponent.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I have a number of suggestions.”

A couple of hours and two cups of tea later they’d decided on a new slogan for Kane’s campaign. “Vote for Kane: A Chance to Make Arkchester Better.” Abby was doing a new sketch while Kane was in his office checking his emails. He returned a few minutes later with a box under his arm. Abby showed him the new sketch.

“I like it,” he said. “I nearly forgot about your surprise.” He handed the box to Abby.

“Ooh, what is it?” she said as she ripped open the cardboard seams.

“Wait and see.” Kane looked pleased with himself as though he was confident she was going to like whatever it was. Abby was excited as she slid a second box from inside the first. She didn’t have to open that to see what it was for a huge picture of the contents was printed on the outside. It was a laptop. What the hell?

“What’s this?” she said, looking up at him and frowning.

Kane’s smile faltered. “It’s a laptop.”

“I can see that. Why have you got me this?”

“Lots of reasons,” replied Kane but Abby cut him off. She was beyond annoyed with him.

“Have you got me this so you can see me better on Skype? I told you I didn’t want that.” The thought of Kane buying her a computer so he could look at her sex in close-up made her feel cheap like she was porn to him, something to be masturbated over, not with.

Kane was flustered; he clearly hadn’t been expecting this response. He ran his fingers through his hair. “No. Erm, no, well not just that. Not that at all really.”

“I’m not something to be perved over, Marcus.”

“Yes, I know. It’s really not….”

“You’ve made me feel cheap now. You’ve cheapened that night.”

“No, Abby. No, it’s not like that.”

Abby opened her mouth to speak but he put his hand up. “Will you let me explain?” Abby sat back on the sofa and crossed her arms. Kane stood in front of her, his hands in constant motion from his hair to his face, to his hips. “The fact that I would be able to see you better, your face and all of you not just your, erm, intimate parts, was only a small, very small part of my decision-making process.”

A smile rose to Abby’s lips at his choice of words to describe her, but she supressed it because she was still annoyed with him and she needed him to know that.

“What else then?”

“I thought it would help us communicate better. I can email you and you can send me your ideas and designs via the computer. It’s much more efficient. There’s a great digital drawing programme on it I’m sure you’d pick it up in no time.”

“I told you I didn’t want a computer. I’m not interested in them.”

“Yes, but that’s rid… we’re in the twenty-first century, Abby. Everyone has a computer.”

“Are you calling me ridiculous for not wanting a computer?”

“No!”

“You are! You stopped yourself but that’s what you were going to say.” Kane was silent because how could he defend himself? It was obvious to Abby what he had been about to say. “It’s not for you to decide what I need or what I should want. Nor is it for you to decide that my choices are wrong just because they don’t match yours. That’s very controlling behaviour.”

“Controlling!” Kane was angry now; his voice had risen in pitch and he had high spots of colour on his cheeks. “Now that IS a ridiculous thing to say. How the hell am I controlling you?”

Abby stood up because now that he was angry she felt at a disadvantage sitting down. “You can’t even see how what you’ve done is wrong.”

“I just wanted to buy you a gift.”

“No, you wanted to influence me by choosing the way I communicate with you, overriding my wish NOT to be on the internet, and worst of all, telling me how I should do my damn art!”

“This is a stupid argument,” said Kane, his hands finally still as they rested on his hips.

“You’re right, it is,” replied Abby. “So I’m going to leave it.” She realised as she pushed past him that she had nowhere to go, and that she was stuck here reliant on him to take her anywhere. That thought made her angrier, and she used her key to open the patio door and go outside, slamming it shut behind her.

Abby stood in the cold air and looked out over the moorland and the sea. In her present mood it seemed bleak to her, cold and heartless like Kane. That was a bitter thought and she knew it, but she held on to it for a moment because she wanted to be angry. How dare he make such presumptions about her and her needs, and he couldn’t see how controlling it was, that was the worst thing. This was what she’d been afraid of, that his obsessive tendencies would extend to her, that they already had. The computer put her at his beck and call all the time, via email or over Skype. Knowing Kane he would demand instant answers and as much as she liked him, or thought she did, she didn’t want to spend all her time at a computer waiting for him and doing his bidding. And telling her to create digital art! What an insult, as though she wasn’t a renowned artist with her own gallery, capable of making her own decisions about what she created. Damn him!

She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. It was cold to sit on and she shivered because she was only wearing thin trousers and a delicate blouse. She wasn’t going inside yet, though. She wasn’t giving him that satisfaction. She watched as a bird landed on a rock across the driveway, a brown bird with dark brown stripes and a sharp beak. It stared at her and Abby stared back. It bleated, sounding like a lamb stuck in a ditch and calling for its mother. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain effort to get warm. The sun was starting to sink but there was no orange glow on this grey evening; it just dropped slowly in the sky as though it too wanted to escape. She wondered what Marcus was doing. She’d half-thought he would come after her but he hadn’t. Was he leaving her to stew deliberately, knowing she would be cold and too stubborn to come back inside?

As she had that thought the door opened and Kane came out carrying her coat. “I thought you might need this,” he said, and he handed her the coat.

“Thank you,” Abby said. He nodded and then he turned and went back inside. Abby was surprised; she’d assumed he had come out to talk to her or entice her back in, but he had merely ensured she was comfortable and left her to it. Perhaps he understood that she had nowhere to go, no space of her own. Perhaps he’d realised how he’d behaved and didn’t want her to think he was controlling her by asking her to go back in. Maybe he really had just wanted to get her a gift? No. There was more to it than that even if he didn’t realise it. Respect in a relationship was vital, and if he couldn’t respect her choices and decisions then there was no future for them. He wasn’t going to know that if she sat out here and didn’t speak to him, and if she stayed out here and waited for him to give in then wasn’t she guilty of controlling him like he was her? She had to take the initiative and go back inside.

When she opened the door, Kane was sitting on the sofa looking at her latest sketch for his campaign. His glasses were on and when he looked up they slid down his nose and he pushed them back up again. A surge of emotion swept through Abby because she realised she cared for him, she cared for him a lot. She needed to make this right so they could continue on their journey together with both of them pulling in the same direction.

“You like that one, then?” she said.

“Yes. It’s much better than the previous slogan. You were right. About everything,” he said. He took off his glasses and stood up.

“I’m sorry I walked out. I felt hemmed in. Everything here is yours and I had nowhere to go.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I can see how I must seem controlling.”

“It’s not that you seem controlling, you WERE being controlling. Can you understand that?”

“I’m trying to.”

“Getting me the computer, it shows a lack of respect for me and my choices. If you wanted me to have a laptop then you should have discussed it with me first.”

“I realise that. I got carried away. I thought it would be useful, that you would enjoy it.”

Abby nodded. She appreciated that he was trying to understand; it was more honest than saying he did when he didn’t, just to appease her. “Okay. Maybe I will one day.”

“Do you mean you want to look at it?”

“Not now. Maybe tomorrow.”

Kane’s face relaxed into a smile. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

Abby nodded. She had the feeling she’d acceded to his wishes more than she’d wanted to, but it didn’t matter. Relationships were about compromise, and she had to learn to do that as much as Kane did.

Kane returned with the bottle of Californian Pinot Noir they’d bought in the pub. He poured them both a large glass.

“I’m surprised you want to drink this,” said Abby.

“Like I said, it’s grown on me.” He put another log on the fire then he sat on the sofa and gestured for her to sit next to him. He leaned forward and pulled off her boots and then lifted her socked feet on top of his legs. Abby took a sip of her wine. Small steps they were taking, small but in the right direction.

“What you said about everything here being mine…,” said Kane as he stroked her leg.

“Of course everything here is yours; it’s your house.”

“I know, but I was thinking. Why don’t we put some of your paintings up? They’ll be something of yours we can both enjoy. You choose whatever you want, bring them with you next time, if you’re going to come again.”

“Of course I’m going to come again.” Abby was touched again by his gesture. “Maybe I’ll do something new, something inspired by these surroundings.”

“That would be wonderful. You know I finished that picture of you.”

“What picture?”

“The one I took on our walk last week. I did some post-production and I think it looks great.”

“Can I see it?”

“It’s only on my computer at the moment but I was thinking of getting it printed, if you were okay with that.”

“Perhaps I should see it first.”

“You sure you want to be near my evil computer?” His look was one of pure mischief and Abby dug her heel into his thigh. “Ow!” he said.

“You deserved that!”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Show me this picture then.”

Kane led her to the hallway on the other side of the kitchen and into a room at the far end that had dual aspect windows to the front and rear of the house. “This is my study,” he said, and stood behind a huge black office chair in front of a wooden desk made of the same pale oak as the rest of the house. Two large screens sat on the desk with a keyboard in front of them.

“Why do you need two screens?”

“It’s easier to see the before and after as I’m working. I’ll show you.” He flicked the mouse and a screensaver came onto both screens that showed one of the black and white photos he had on the wall, the one of the sea rolling in, the waves huge and caught in motion looking like white horses galloping towards the shore.

“I love that picture,” said Abby.

“Thanks. Take a seat.” He pulled out the chair for Abby to sit in then he leaned over her so he could manipulate the mouse. He typed in a password that Abby could clearly see was Kane170975. Was that his birthday? It would make him 43 so it probably was. That meant he’d had a birthday less than a month ago and hadn’t told her. She thought back to that date. It was when he’d come around to her cottage in the morning and they’d had sex quickly before he’d had to go to a meeting. Was that his birthday and he’d never said a word to her? No wonder he’d wanted to come around; she was his birthday treat to himself. That thought made Abby amused and sad at the same time.

“This is the programme I use,” Kane said, bringing her back to the present. “It’s the one I’ve put on your laptop, but that’s not why I’m showing you,” he added quickly.

“I’ll believe you,” said Abby, and Kane smiled sheepishly.

He opened up the programme and searched in a folder containing hundreds of photographs for the one he’d taken of her. He loaded it onto the screen. Abby’s face loomed large, startling her.

“This is the before picture,” he said.

“It looks good,” she said, remembering how she’d felt when she first saw it on the small screen of his camera up on the hill. “I still look sad.”

“This is after I’ve played with it.” The same photo came up on the second screen but it was a lot different to the first one. There was greater contrast between the black and white, bringing out the freckles on Abby’s face that she’d hated growing up. Her cheekbones and her jaw were more defined and her eyes were black and seemed huge. The earlier picture was grey and lifeless in comparison.

“Wow! That’s a big difference.”

“The camera flattens the image, so you have to compensate for that.”

“You’ve done more than that to it, though. It’s haunting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not going to want my huge face on your wall, though, surely?”

“Why not? You look like a film star.”

“I do not!”

“You do. You could be in Casablanca or one of those films from the Fifties.”

Abby examined her face closely. She saw the beginnings of crows feet at the edges of her eyes, and soft lines in her skin that would only get deeper as she aged, but her eyes had a sparkle and she’d always liked her nose which she thought was elegant. Usually she thought she looked harsh in photos, her lips downturned as though she was going to come out with a snarky comment, which she often was. Marcus had softened her without losing her character.

“I don’t know, Marcus.”

“Why don’t I order a print and if you don’t like it I can keep it in here. I’ll never get any work done, mind you.”

Abby was flattered that he wanted to do this but it still felt strange. Maybe she should turn the tables on him, see how he reacted to being memorialised?

“I won’t say no to the print if you will agree to pose for me next time we see each other.”

Kane stood straight, and Abby swivelled the chair so she could look up at him. He had his hands on his hips. “A naked picture?”

“Would you be up for that?” She’d only been teasing him when she’d suggested that last week but he seemed open to the idea, so she decided to see where this would lead.

“Well, I have the physique,” he said, squeezing his bicep.

“No one’s going to be looking at your biceps,” Abby replied with a raised eyebrow.

“No?”

“Definitely not.”

“Bring plenty of paint and we’ll see what happens.”

“It’s a deal.” Abby held out her hand to Kane and he took it and pulled her up out of her seat and into his arms.

“I’m sorry about before, about the laptop,” he said.

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to perv over you, although I do like to look at you.” He brushed her hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

“I know that too.” Abby ran her thumb across his lower lip, and then she reached up and kissed him. “We’re both idiots,” she said when they parted.

“I guess we have a lot to learn.”

“We’ll get there.” She took his hand and led him out of the room, along the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom where she let him look at every part of her for as long as he wanted, while she did the same to him.

An hour later they were back in the kitchen. The sun had set and there was no moon. Kane had switched on the uplighters and they were cocooned in an orangey glow. Abby was wearing an old faded-blue shirt of Kane’s and some pyjama bottoms he never wore, the legs of which she’d had to turn up several times. Despite saying she was prepared for any eventuality she’d only brought her slip to sleep in which was fine, but not great for hanging around the house, and her slacks and blouses seemed too formal, so she’d asked Kane if he had anything he didn’t mind her borrowing. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and now she was standing at the countertop making them a salad for a light dinner. Kane was standing at the other side of the island, sorting through his post and she caught him glancing up at her now and then.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing. You just, you look hot like that, in my clothes.”

“Yeah?” Abby chopped a stick of celery and smiled.

“Yeah. Will you keep them on all night?”

“All night?”

“Well, until I take them off you.”

“If you want me to.”

She looked up from her chopping and saw Kane smile as he opened one of the letters. He blinked a few times then his smile turned to a frown and a look of shock and incomprehension spread across his face. “What the hell?” he said.

Abby’s stomach flipped making her feel sick. “What is it?”

“It’s another letter.”

“No? What does it say?”

Kane came around to Abby’s side of the island and passed her the note. It was set out the same as the previous note.

_Dear Councillor Kane_

_Despite my previous letter you are still actively campaigning for Mayor of Arkchester. Perhaps you didn’t take my warning seriously. The enclosed should assure you that I do indeed have evidence of your behaviour with Mrs Griffin, and I shall not hesitate to forward this and more to the prison authorities and the high school._

_Yours sincerely_

_A Friend_

“What is enclosed?” said Abby, bile rising in her throat at the thought of what it could be.

Kane felt around in the envelope and brought out a photograph. They peered at it together. “What is it?” said Abby, as she stared at the blurred image of two people standing so close they seemed merged into one.

“I think it’s meant to be us,” replied Kane.

“You can’t tell that’s us! You can barely tell it’s two people and you certainly can’t see what they’re doing.”

“I know. It’s very odd.” Kane looked at the photo closely. “Perhaps if I scan it into my computer we can blow it up and see if there’s anything we’ve missed.”

“What’s the point of that? If we can’t tell what it is how is it going to work as blackmail? It’s stupid.”

“Nevertheless, I’m going to do it.” He took the photo and went into his study and Abby followed him. She watched as he scanned it in and then zoomed in, using his mouse to move around the picture. “That could be your back door,” he said, pointing to the fuzzy white structure the two people were in front of. “That red could be the roses growing up the side.”

“That’s a stretch, Marcus. It could be anything, and no one can see into my back garden.” Abby thought about the angle the picture must have been taken from. Her garden was long and wide and although she had neighbours there were tall hedges in between their houses and her cottage was set further back than the others. Her back door could not be seen from her neighbours’ windows. At the end of the garden was another tall hedge with a gate in it that led out onto a field. To take a photo of her and Kane against her back door the photographer would have had to either be inside the garden and hidden somehow or standing on a ladder to look over the hedge. The thought of either of those things made her feel sick.

“Why have they sent us a blurred picture?” said Kane.

“Because they’re trying to mess with our heads. They don’t have proof. It’s a con.”

Kane switched off his computer and sat back in his chair. “Why would anyone not want me to be Mayor this badly? And why would they involve you?”

“So that you will react like you are doing and be distracted. I don’t know what they hope to gain from this other than to cause you distress.”

“What if they’ve blurred this photo on their computer using a programme like mine? They could have a clearer photo they can use for the blackmail.”

“Why wouldn’t they send us a copy of that, then? Don’t drive yourself mad over this, Marcus.” Even as she said this Abby knew some damage had been done. Kane was worrying his lip with his teeth and staring into the distance. She took his hands in hers. “Is there anything practical we can do?” she said, thinking he might feel better if he thought he could do something about it.

“I could investigate the postmark, see if I can find out exactly where it was posted.”

“That would be a start. Let’s not allow this to affect us, Marcus, okay? We’re not going to change our behaviour or our plans. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

Kane nodded. He stood up. “Maybe that’s it,” he said in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“Maybe it’s not about me being Mayor at all. Maybe it’s about me and you.”

“Me and you? Why would anyone care about us?”

Kane shrugged. “Someone who’s jealous maybe.”

“That I’m dating you?”

“Or that I’m dating you.”

Abby shook her head. “I think it’s someone with a sick sense of humour who’s just trying to wind you up. Maybe you looked at them strangely in the supermarket or something. Let’s go and eat dinner and forget about it.”

She returned to the kitchen and her preparations, but she was unsettled despite her dismissive words. The thought that someone might have seen her and Kane having sex, that they had photographed them or, God forbid, videoed them, made her nauseous. She looked out of the window and saw the reflection of the room looking back at her, Kane with his back to her pouring them another glass of wine, Abby staring at herself, knife in hand, her face pale and ghostlike in the reflection. Even though there was no one around for miles Abby felt exposed. They were the only beacon of light in the wilderness. She couldn’t see out but someone could see in. They could be out there now, watching her. She closed her eyes. God, it was two stupid letters that could have been written by one of her students for all she knew. She had to get a grip on herself otherwise she would end up as compulsive as Kane.

She finished the salad and put it on the dining table and Kane brought some cuts of ham and their wine glasses. They sat in the same places as they had the previous week and Abby stared out of the window defiantly. If anyone was out there, then let them see. She and Kane had nothing to hide.

“It’s been quite a weekend,” Kane said as he forked some salad into his mouth.

“The best.” They looked at each other and smiled.

“Oh, I completely forgot to tell you. Doctor Jackson has found you a possible apprentice.”

“Someone from the prison?” Excitement fluttered in Abby’s stomach.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Kane looked the opposite of how Abby felt.

“Why unfortunately?”

“You know how I feel about using a prisoner for this work. I made that clear at the beginning, and this one is definitely not to be trusted.”

“We’re four months into the programme now, and it’s working, I thought you knew that. Are you still unsure about my results?”

“No, no. I’m happy with your results. You wouldn’t still be on the payroll if I weren’t.” Kane gave her a mischievous look.

“How generous of you,” replied Abby, returning the look.

Kane raised his eyebrows. “But this boy isn’t on your programme and is therefore an unknown quantity.”

Abby was intrigued now about who this young man was that Doctor Jackson thought was good enough for her and Kane clearly did not.

“What’s his name?”

“John Murphy.”

Abby thought back through all the contact she’d had with various prisoners over the last four months. The name didn’t ring a bell. “I don’t think I know him.”

“Oh, I thought you would have. His mother is the art teacher at the High school.”

“The one I’m substituting for at the moment? She’s never mentioned a son.”

“It’s hardly surprising.” Kane sniffed, his disapproval of John Murphy clear. “She probably doesn’t want to admit her son’s a delinquent.”

Abby was surprised she didn’t know this. Everything she and Kane did seemed to be talked about all over the town, but this news had passed her by. She obviously wasn’t nosey enough. “What’s he in prison for?”

“I can’t tell you that, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you if I thought he was dangerous.”

Abby was touched by his concern for her welfare. “If his mother is an art teacher then perhaps he has her talent and that’s why Doctor Jackson chose him. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Doctor Jackson’s too soft.” Kane put down his fork, pulled his face into a grimace while he thought. “I don’t know, Abby. He has a mouth on him. Cheeky little bugger.”

“I can handle a sassy mouth.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Abby put her head down and looked up at Kane through her eyelashes. “You don’t think I can work my charms on him?” she said with a sly smile.

“Not in that way, I hope!”

“Jealous are you?”

“Pfft.” Kane waved his hand dismissively. “He’s a bampot.”

Kane’s Scottish accent came out strongly when he said the word. Abby had never heard it before. “A what?”

“A bampot. An idiot.”

“Bampot.” Abby laughed. “Is that a Scottish word?”

“Aye.”

“You’re very sexy when you speak like that.”

“I’m not sure anyone’s thought a Glaswegian accent is sexy before.”

“We Americans love everything British. Say something else.”

“Ye’re a bonnie lass.”

“They say lass around here, I’ve noticed that. Whenever I go to the store Mr Hussein says, ‘That’ll be five pound fifty, lass’. I finally figured out it meant girl.”

“It’s a northern term generally.”

“What does bonnie mean?”

“Beautiful. I said you’re a beautiful girl.”

A warm smile spread across Abby’s face, she couldn’t help it. “What would I call you?”

Kane ate a cherry tomato and contemplated her. “A numpty.”

“A numpty. What’s that, a handsome man?”

Kane laughed. “It means an idiot same as bampot but an idiot that you find endearing.”

“You’re not a numpty.”

“You don’t find me endearing?” Kane put on a mock wounded look.

“I mean you’re not an idiot.”

“I have been today.”

“No.”

Kane put his hand on top of hers. “Yes, and I want you to call me out on it. I meant it earlier, what I said about you challenging me. I do need it.”

“As long as you call me out on my bullshit as well.”

“You can count on it.” Kane smirked and they returned to eating their dinner and chatting about Kane’s new campaign slogan and Abby’s meeting with the infamous John Murphy.

Lying in bed a few hours later, with Kane snoring gently by her side, Abby thought it had been a great weekend overall. Eventful, certainly, and eye-opening in many ways. Now that she’d had time to reflect she wasn’t upset about the laptop. She accepted that Kane’s motivations were good if misguided and that he understood his mistake. It was good to have had their first argument, proof that this had the potential to be a real relationship, with ups and downs and disagreements and learning how to get along with each other. He’d given in to her a lot in Blackpool and she had to admit it was good to see the spark in him, because it was what attracted her in the first place and she didn’t want him to suppress it because he was afraid of her reaction, or that he would lose her. She would ask him to show her the laptop in the morning and that would end this weekend on a positive note for them both.


	11. Men!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby meets Murphy and receives a shock. Is Kane really who she thinks he is?

Abby walked into the prison earlier than usual on Tuesday afternoon with excitement fluttering through her veins. She was going to meet John Murphy, and she was desperate to discover what Doctor Jackson liked about him and what Kane didn’t, and to make up her own mind about this young man who had wormed his way into her thoughts ever since Kane had told her about him on Saturday night. Kane had set up her new laptop when he’d dropped Abby at home on Sunday afternoon and the first thing she’d done was google Murphy. Kane wouldn’t tell her what crime he’d committed because it was a breach of his privacy but Google had no such ethical dilemmas. John Murphy had been convicted of arson after he’d set fire to a policeman’s home. There was no further detail, but Abby wasn’t surprised his mother didn’t talk about him. She wondered if Murphy was a delinquent as Kane thought, or whether the policeman had done something to warrant the attack, not that it was excusable. The article had said that Murphy was of previous good character.

Doctor Jackson was waiting for her in the lobby of the prison when she signed in. Abby wasn’t expecting to see Kane because he’d gone to Manchester for a meeting at the prison there.

“It’s good to see you, Abby,” Jackson said with a warm smile, his big brown eyes lighting up like they always did when he saw her. She’d often wondered if Jackson had a crush on her. She wasn’t sure how old he was because he looked like he should be in school, but he was a qualified doctor and had been at the prison a few years from what she could gather. He must be nearly thirty. He liked her to call him by his surname not his first name, so it probably wasn’t a crush, but she always treated him carefully just in case.

“It’s lovely to see you, Jackson. How are things?”

“Fine,” he replied like he always did. “I don’t know if Governor Kane has told you, but I’ve found an apprentice for you, a man named Murphy.”

“He has told me, yes, and I’m grateful to you.” Abby followed Jackson down the hall as they talked. “I’m keen to meet him.”

“He’s an interesting character.”

“Governor Kane didn’t seem too impressed with him.”

Jackson turned to look at Abby and rolled his eyes. “When is he ever impressed with anyone?” he said. “Except you.” He turned back to push open a door but not before Abby caught a faint blush on his cheek. Was there anyone in the universe who didn’t know about her and Kane? Of course, Jackson had walked in on them when they were red-faced and sweaty, and he’d have had to have been blind not to see what they’d been doing. He’d never mentioned it, but how could he not have realised?

Jackson punched a code into the door and Abby followed him into the room where she held her therapy sessions. A young man with dark hair flopping into his eyes was slouched against the back wall where Kane had stood when she first met him. He looked up when they entered, stared at Abby with a blank expression. A prison guard nodded at Jackson and then left the room.

“Stand up straight, Murphy, and take your hands out of your pockets,” said Jackson in a no-nonsense tone that surprised Abby. He spoke so quietly normally, like he wouldn’t say boo to a goose.

Murphy waited a moment before doing as requested, just to give a hint that he was doing it because he wanted to, not because Jackson had told him. Abby got the measure of him in that moment. His defiance was an act most likely, a cloak with which he hid himself, or defended himself, she wasn’t sure which yet.

“This is Mrs Griffin.” Jackson turned to Abby. “This is John Murphy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John,” said Abby.

Murphy nodded, resumed his slouch against the wall.

“Have you been drawing long?” Abby continued.

Murphy’s sigh was loud and exaggerated. “Who said I drew?”

“Well what are you doing here if you don’t draw? If I’d wanted a prop I’d have asked for one.”

Murphy stood straighter, leaned forward. “A what?”

“A prop, someone who props up walls, as you are doing now.”

“I.” Abby had caught Murphy off guard with her response and he floundered for a moment, looking for the right retort. “Do you think you’re clever?”

“Do you?” replied Abby.

“Think you’re clever?”

“Think YOU’RE clever?”

“I KNOW I’m clever,” Murphy said with a smug look.

“Then we are the same. Shall we get on?” Murphy clearly hadn’t expected Abby to answer him in this manner and he seemed shocked at first, and then the tiniest hint of a smile graced his face.

“Now, I want you to do a portrait of Doctor Jackson, RESPECTFULLY. Let’s see if your talent is as big as your mouth.” She handed Murphy his pencils with a raised eyebrow, and he smirked back.

Abby pulled out a chair to sit down and watched while Murphy sketched Jackson. She could tell from the way he barely had to think before putting marks on the canvas that he had natural talent. She could see how Murphy would frustrate Kane with his quick mouth and his apparent disregard for authority and the Governor side of Kane probably hadn’t looked much deeper than what was on the surface. Not that Abby blamed him. He had thousands of inmates and staff to manage and little time for one annoying individual. Jackson on the other hand had seen through Murphy’s exterior. She wondered how the doctor knew so much about him. Through fighting perhaps. Murphy had a faded bruise on his cheek and his knuckles were grazed and red. He was probably in and out of the infirmary.

There was more to Jackson than she’d thought from his quiet mousiness. She ought to get to know him better. If she was to stay in this odd little town then the more friends and allies she had the better. Perhaps he would come to dinner, but then she didn’t want him to think she was asking him out. Maybe if Kane were there? He wouldn’t like it but it was time he broadened his horizons. He’d made a start by letting Abby into his life, but she didn’t want him to simply swap one sanctuary for another, his house for her. She mustn’t let herself become his crutch, his everything. That way disaster lay in relationships.

She watched Murphy’s sketch come to life. He wasn’t conventional in his technique but he was exciting, his strokes bold and uncompromising. Abby felt bubbles of excitement rise up into her chest. She hadn’t had an apprentice since California, and she realised as she watched Murphy that she missed mentoring someone, seeing them learn and grow and find themselves. None of the students at the High School were going to be artists. For most of them it seemed as though they’d thought it was an easy subject to pass and that’s why they’d taken it. Murphy was on another level entirely.

Ambition was stirring in Abby’s veins. She’d relinquished her art to an extent since the fiasco with her husband, painting what she wanted but not challenging herself. She’d entered the exhibition at the Town Hall that was taking place this weekend but her competition would be amateur, not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was more than a few steps back for her. Maybe now she had the computer she could get serious again, set up an online gallery like she used to have, maybe even find some bigger studio space here, not that she could afford it. Online wouldn’t cost much, though. Adrenaline shot through Abby. Was this one of the reasons Kane had bought her the laptop? To open up the world to her again if she wanted? She hadn’t considered that he’d done it for her, only for his own selfish reasons.

“I’m done,” Murphy said, his bored voice seeping into Abby’s consciousness, stirring her from her thoughts about Kane and her art.

Abby stood and went across to Murphy, examining the work over his shoulder. Jackson was wriggling in his seat, shaking his arms and legs to rid them of the cramp he must have got sitting still for so long.

“How unflattering is it?” Jackson said with a laugh.

“It’s good,” replied Abby. She looked at Murphy. “You’re confident with overall shape and particularly the contours of his face here and here, but you’ve not captured the eyes as well as you could have. What do you think?”

“He has ridiculously large eyes,” said Murphy with a pout.

“All the better for seeing what you’re up to,” replied Jackson. Murphy rolled his own much smaller eyes.

Abby ignored their banter. “Did your mom teach you how to draw?”

“My MUM couldn’t be bothered to teach me anything,” said Murphy, emphasising the English pronunciation as though Abby’s way of speaking was wrong, which she supposed it was here in England. She’d often seen Kane screw up his nose when she’d mispronounced some vitally important word. And that from a man who said bampot!

“Your mum is an excellent teacher from what I know,” replied Abby. “It’s a shame you haven’t been able to take advantage of that for whatever reason.”

“I told you the reason.”

“Yes, you did. My group is going to be here soon. Do you think you’d like to help me out over the next month or so, see how it goes?”

Murphy shrugged. “I don’t see what I get out of it.”

“You get the pleasure of my company,” replied Abby. “What more could you want?”

“Time off my sentence would be nice.”

“I can’t promise that, but I could look into it, IF it works out well and you behave.”

“You could talk to your boyfriend.” Murphy’s mischievous look made Abby’s heart beat faster. Don’t say this impudent young man knew everything about her and Kane as well!

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, staring straight back at Murphy.

“I hear you’re dating Governor Kane.” So he did know. There was nothing private in this prison, or this town or even probably the whole of Lancashire.

“My private life is irrelevant to what we’re doing here.”

“Jaha must be gutted having Kane gazump him again.” Murphy laughed and stared insolently at Abby.

“That’s enough, Murphy,” said Jackson, putting his hand on Murphy’s arm to warn him. Murphy shrugged it off.

“What do you mean?” said Abby, who had no idea what gazumping was and was curious to see what Murphy knew of Jaha and Kane.

“After what happened with Kane’s wife, the lovely Caroline.”

“I mean it, Murphy.” Jackson looked at Abby. “Don’t listen to him, Abby, he likes to stir the pot.”

“I mean,” said Murphy, moving away from Jackson towards Abby, who stood her ground. “After Kane stole Caroline straight from Jaha’s bed and installed her in his. Now he’s stolen you. Everyone knows Jaha fancied you since the minute you got here.”

Abby’s face must have betrayed some of the confusion she was feeling because Murphy laughed. Was what he was saying true? Kane had cheated with Jaha’s girlfriend and took her from him? That seemed unlike him, but then there was animosity between the men, and Kane was someone who liked to get what he wanted. How could Jaha have fancied her since she arrived? She didn’t meet him until the Town Hall event. Murphy was still smiling at her and Abby pulled herself together, not wanting to give this young man any further satisfaction than she already had. “Like I said, all of this is irrelevant. Are you going to work with me or not?”

“I don’t see how I can say no. It’s clearly going to be very entertaining.”

Abby resisted the urge to slap Murphy’s smug grin off his face. “Then you can start by preparing for the session. Set out the easels and the paints for everyone. You’ll find their artboards in the case.”

While Murphy did as she’d asked, Abby turned to Jackson. She didn’t want to betray her lack of knowledge about Kane’s past but at the same time she was desperate to know the truth. “How can Murphy know so much about Kane and everything?” she said, hoping Jackson wouldn’t realise she was fishing for information.

“Everyone knows everything here, Abby, you know that by now.”

“Mayor Jaha hasn’t got over what Kane did to him, that much is obvious,” she said, hoping Jackson would tell her Murphy was lying.

“I wasn’t here back then, but I’ve heard that Jaha took it badly, yes.”

So, it was true! Kane was someone who could betray his friend and cheat with his girl behind his back, or at least he had been. Abby felt sick. Kane had only told her how he wasn’t good enough for his wife, and made her feel sorry for him, and she’d believed that his wife was responsible for his condition and his lonely, isolated life, when in truth he had done the very same thing to his best friend. She didn’t know him at all!

“I think a lot of people were surprised you took up with Kane. He’s not well-liked,” continued Jackson.

Abby nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t want Jackson to know how utterly betrayed and bereft she felt. She’d given herself to a man about whom she knew nothing. How stupid had she been? Jackson put his hand on Abby’s arm, stroked it, giving her a tight smile. He knew. Damnit, and damn Murphy and his casual knife thrust to her heart. He knew what he was doing. In fact, everyone in this town knew everything except for Abby. She was the stupid outsider, coming up here thinking that life out in the picturesque countryside was quaint and innocent and simple, when it was the opposite. She felt suffocated, like it was suddenly hard to breathe, but she had no chance to escape because her group was entering the room and she had no choice but to put on a big smile and get on with her session. She would deal with Kane later.

Jackson stayed for the entire session, chaperoning Murphy Abby presumed, although she felt more than capable of handling the boy. Some of the prisoners attending her sessions had done far worse things than Murphy and they didn’t frighten her. She didn’t speak to Jackson and the only words she said to Murphy were instructions on guiding the participants.

“I think that went well,” she said at the end of the session when the prisoners had gone and the three of them were alone again.

“It passed the time,” replied Murphy.

“I’ll see you on Thursday then. I want you to think about Williams and what he’s trying to express and how you can best help him.”

Murphy screwed up his face into an ugly grimace. “I don’t give a fuck about Williams.”

“I didn’t ask you to give a fuck, I asked you to think about how you can help him. Tidy up, please.” With that, Abby walked out of the room and out of the building. She sat in her Volvo, taking deep breaths. She hadn’t felt such a mixture of emotions since, well since the last time she’d had to deal with a lying, cheating man. Goddamn Kane to hell and back. Why couldn’t he have been straightforward? She pulled out her phone and opened their message conversation. She punched a short text into it, hoping her anger would pass through the phone and into Kane’s heart like a dagger.

_Come straight to my place when you get back from Manchester. I need to see you._

The brevity and downright rudeness of her text would rival one of Kane’s and she was pleased with the result. He would know she was angry about something. She hoped he was shaking in his boots. Barely thirty seconds later her phone pinged.

_I was hoping you’d ask me round. Be back around six-thirty. Marcus x_

Fuck! He had no clue, and he’d sent her a kiss. Now he was going to be all happy and looking forward to seeing her. Men! Men, men, men, men, men! What the fuck was wrong with them all? She put the car in gear and slammed her foot on the accelerator, her tyres spinning across the tarmac as she raced out of the car park and out towards her cottage. Any man who had the misfortune to get in her way between the prison and home had better watch out.

Back at home, in order to think about something positive while she waited for Kane to appear, Abby googled Raven Reyes, the girl who’d put her gallery in Glendale online what seemed like another lifetime ago. It didn’t take long to find her, because she had numerous sites attributed to her, twitter and Facebook and Instagram and about ten other places Abby had never heard of. Within ten minutes Abby had found out that she was still in Glendale and working for one of Abby’s fellow artists. There was an email address and Abby opened up the email account Kane had set up for her. She wanted to email Raven and see if she would be willing to help Abby set up an online gallery in the UK. There was an unread message from Kane in her inbox. It was titled Numpty and Abby clicked on it despite herself. The message was short like his texts.

_Thought you might enjoy having this. Mx_

There was an attachment, and Abby opened it to find the picture she’d taken of Kane staring at her, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised in surprise. She laughed; it was involuntary because he looked so silly and she was taken back to that day and the fun they’d had. Fuck. How could a man be like he had been with her and do what he’d done to his friend? Maybe she was wrong, was she wrong? She didn’t trust Murphy, but Jackson? Why would he lie? He seemed convinced Kane had stolen Caroline from Jaha. It was clear from her interactions with people in the town that Kane wasn’t well liked but she’d thought that was his brusque manner and his odd ways, not because of anything specific he’d done. She had to ask him, that’s all there was to it. She figured out how to save the attachment to the laptop then closed the email programme without messaging Raven. It could wait. There was no point setting up a gallery in the UK if there was a chance she wasn’t going to be here. She certainly wasn’t staying in Arkchester if Kane turned out to be a lying cheat. Onwards and upwards, and far, far away.

Having decided it was a mistake to have anything to do with the computer he’d bought her and being too wound up to paint or do anything productive, Abby instead cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, stripped the sheets from her bed and replaced them with fresh ones. She was bundling them into the washing machine when there was a knock at the door. A glance at the kitchen clock told her it was six-thirty. There was only one person it could be. She took a deep breath and marched over to the door, flinging it open so hard it almost hit the wall. Kane was standing there in his suit, briefcase in hand, a broad smile on his face.

“Hi,” he said, and he kissed her on the cheek before brushing past her into the living room and putting his briefcase on the table in its usual position. “How was your meeting with Mr Murphy?”

“Enlightening,” said Abby as she closed the door and stood against it, looking at Kane.

“I expect it was. Can I get a drink before you tell me about it? I’ve had a day.”

“Help yourself,” replied Abby, and Kane disappeared into her kitchen.

“Do you want anything?” he shouted.

“No.”

“Okay.” He returned a minute later with a gin and tonic and took a long draught before setting the glass on the coffee table. “That is good.” He smiled at her, not seeming to have noticed that she was still standing against the door, nor that she hadn’t smiled at him since he’d arrived. “I got you a souvenir from Manchester,” he said, pulling a small paper bag from his pocket. He held it out to Abby and she had no choice but to go towards him to take it.

She opened it and shook out the small object from within. It was a fridge magnet that said I Escaped HMP Manchester. She looked up at Kane who was grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m going to have to get some of those made for my prison. Maybe you can design one for me.”

Abby sighed. All she wanted to do was laugh and joke about it with him and put her arms around him and kiss him. It was hard to remain angry when he was standing in front of her softer and goofier than she’d ever seen him. Why couldn’t he have been short-tempered and abrupt like he usually was when he’d had a long day? “I think I will have that drink,” she said.

“I’ll make it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.” Abby went into the kitchen to fix her drink, mainly so she could have a moment to gather her thoughts, and her nerve. She didn’t get a chance to do either because Kane came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. Abby wriggled away and that finally got his attention.

“What’s the matter? You don’t seem yourself.”

Abby turned to face him. “I guess I’m not.”

A look of concern spread across Kane’s face. “Has something happened? Did that idiot Murphy upset you? I’ll kill him.”

“It is because of Murphy in a way, yes.”

Kane went pale with anger. “I told you it was a mistake working with him. What’s he done?”

Abby took a deep breath. “It’s not him that’s upset me, not directly.”

Kane shook his head in confusion. “What is it, then? You’d better tell me because I have no patience for guessing games, Abby.”

“It’s you. You’ve upset me.”

“Me?” Kane’s shock was plain to see in his face. “What have I done? Oh, this isn’t about that bloody laptop again, is it? I said I was sorry for that.”

“It’s not about the laptop, it’s about you and Jaha, and your ex-wife.”

Kane looked as surprised as he did in the photo he’d sent her and it would have made Abby laugh again if she wasn’t so angry. “You’ve lost me, Abby. What about Jaha and my ex-wife? What do you know of them?”

“Nothing! And that’s precisely my point.”

“You’ve never wanted to know anything about Caroline, and when you have asked me the odd question, I’ve answered it.”

That was true. She’d been burning with curiosity since she’d found out he had an ex-wife but asking too many questions hadn’t fitted in with her keeping-it-casual plan, so she had kept them to herself and now that decision had come back to bite her.

“Is it true that she was Jaha’s girlfriend before she was yours?”

Kane sighed deeply. “Is this Murphy talking?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes it’s true, what of it?”

“I just didn’t think you were like that.”

“Like what? Someone who’s dated other people? I don’t understand your problem.”

“I didn’t think you were someone who could lie to their best friend, cheat on him, take the woman he loves!” Abby glared at Kane who took a step back.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He was getting angry, his face pale, his eyes sparking flint on steel. Abby’s blood started to heat because it was supposed to be her who was angry, not him.

“I felt for you, when you told me your wife had left you, and you weren’t good enough for her. Your words touched me deeply, and then today I found out you’d done to Jaha what she’d done to you!”

“I. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know of what I’m being accused? Dating a girl who’d once dated someone else? We’re not in kindergarten, these things happen!”

“He was your best friend!”

“Jaha was never my best friend. He was in a circle of friends I had at university. Caroline was in that circle too.” Kane crossed his arms, contemplated Abby. “What’s bothering you about this? That I’ve been with other people?”

“No, course not, God!”

“What then?” His anger seemed to have softened, and he looked genuinely confused. He mustn’t have much guilt about what he’d done if he couldn’t see that it was wrong.

“It’s disappointing, to me, that you would make moves on Caroline while she was with someone else, sleep with her, take her from him. I can’t be with someone who behaves like that, I’m sorry.”

“Now hang on! I have never! That… that’s not what happened. Is that what you think?”

“It’s what Murphy said,” and even as Abby said the words her heart sank into her stomach and she knew she’d been an idiot. One look at Kane’s incredulous face was all the proof she needed.

“Murphy! Goddamn him. And you believed him.” Kane was shaking his head. “I can never escape,” he said in a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Abby said, her voice as quiet as Kane’s.

“Do you want to hear the truth?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go and sit down. I need that drink.” Kane walked into the living room without waiting for Abby’s response. She picked up her drink and followed him. She sat on the sofa thinking Kane would sit next to her but he sat on the chair opposite.

Kane took a drink and then sat forward in his chair, his hands hanging stiffly between his knees. “The three of us knew each other from day one at university. Caroline was already dating Jaha from when they were in school. I was jealous, I have to admit. She was very beautiful, and funny, so funny.” He smiled when he said this, and a piece of Abby’s heart constricted, which was stupid, because he was allowed to have fond memories of his wife. She had some of her husband, somewhere, probably.

“She must have been special.”

“I thought she was at the time. We did grow close, and I wanted her and probably wasn’t very subtle about it.” He laughed and looked at Abby sheepishly.

“I guess we’re all like that when we’re young, selfish, self-interested.”

“Yes, I suppose. Not sure I’ve changed all that much.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her and Abby laughed. “Anyway, she was with Jaha and I accepted that, and I would never have stolen her away from him, Abby, never, even though I wanted to.”

“Okay.” Abby could see the truth of it in his eyes, all over his face. He wasn’t used to talking about this subject, she could tell from the way he was playing with his fingers while he talked, clasping and unclasping them, stroking his fingernails, picking at non-existent marks. She wanted to reach out and take his hands in hers to still them, but she was too far away from him.

“They split up after a while. It was her decision. It was probably because of me, because of her feelings for me, but we’d never acted on them, never touched each other even casually. Of course, that heightened it all for me, but that’s by the by. I thought she was the love of my life, and I was hers.” Kane sighed. “I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.” Abby leant forward as well, to try and be closer to Kane but he wasn’t really looking at her.

“I’m someone who likes to get what he wants. I wanted Callie and I got her, and did I play a hundred percent fair? No, but I didn’t lie and I didn’t cheat, and I’m surprised you believed Murphy, someone you’d never met, over me.” He looked up at her then, his eyes dark and more disappointed than accusing. Abby’s skin broke out in goosebumps. She felt guilty, ashamed of herself for jumping to conclusions.

“If it had been just Murphy,” she started to say before she could stop herself.

“What do you mean?” said Kane, butting in sharply. “Who else has talked to you?”

“Oh, well no one really.” Abby was digging this hole deeper and deeper and soon there would be no way out.

“Someone must have.”

“Well, there’s whomever Murphy got his information from, and then Jackson….”

“Jackson?” Kane looked surprised.

“He confirmed it, sort of.”

“He didn’t know me then. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I guess he heard the same information and drew his own conclusions.”

Kane put his head in his hands. “This town.” He took a deep breath, sat up straight. “Do you believe me now?”

Abby nodded. “Yes, yes of course. I didn’t want to believe it before.”

“And yet you did.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Kane nodded. “It doesn’t matter.” He stood up. “I’d better go. I have a lot to do.”

Abby was alarmed, not just at his words but at his tone; he sounded tired, resigned, like he was letting this go, letting them go. She stood up as well, moved towards him.

“Don’t go. Stay.”

Kane put his hand on his briefcase. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Abby. I’ve never given you any reason to think these things about me.”

“I regret it. I regret the whole day. It was just, when I heard that, it was all I could think about. With everything that happened with my husband. Back then I felt so betrayed, and those feelings came back again. It’s so hard to trust, when that’s happened to you.” She looked up at Kane, her eyes damp with tears. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him, hadn’t wanted to shed tears over this subject ever again, but here they were. She clearly wasn’t as over it as she’d thought she was.

“Oh, I know. I know that, I do.” Kane held out his arms to her and Abby went to him. He hugged her, stroked her hair. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry,” she said between sobs.

“Shush. I will never do that to you,” he said, and he smiled tenderly as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Abby nodded. He meant it, she knew he did, but he couldn’t know that, couldn’t promise it, no one could. It was why she’d only wanted a casual relationship, because as soon as feelings were involved things like this happened.

“I’ve had eight years,” whispered Kane as he held her so tight she could hardly breathe, “and you’re the first person I’ve wanted to trust. Your pain is still raw. I know it’s hard.”

Abby’s tears became a flood, and she let them flow, gave her pain voice as she gripped onto the back of Kane’s suit and stained his pale blue shirt dark. She hadn’t cried in front of someone else at all, always alone, always keeping up appearances. All this time she’d been smugly thinking about how she’d opened him up, got under his skin, when he had done the same to her; she’d simply resisted it longer. It felt good, to be held like this, to be comforted, especially by him, a man who didn’t give such things easily.

When she pulled away from him at last she wiped away her tears and sniffed. “I don’t know where that came from,” she lied, because she wasn’t ready yet to admit the true depth of her feelings.

“It creeps up on you sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes. Thank you. Will you stay? Stay the night?”

Kane kissed her forehead. “If you want me to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Okay.” Abby smoothed her hair, adjusted her crumpled shirt that was as damp as Kane’s. “My turn to cook, I guess.”

“Seems fair,” replied Kane as he took off his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door.

“Chinese be okay?”

“You cook Chinese food?”

“I order it.”

Kane laughed. “Sounds great. Show me the menu.” She pulled the menu from the letter rack and handed it to him so he could examine it. “This is one of the better takeaways around here. They have some authentic Cantonese food. What would you like?”

“I always like dim sum, but it’s a sharing platter.”

“That’s okay.”

“You don’t mind dipping into the same sauces?”

Kane shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’ll place the order then.” Abby called the takeaway and then went into the kitchen to get napkins and set their places at the old farmhouse table. “Do you use chopsticks?” she said to Kane who had followed her in.

“I try.”

“I’ll put a fork out as well just in case.” She busied herself getting everything ready but she could see Kane hovering in the periphery of her vision, sense that something was on his mind.

“Abby,” he said, and she turned to look at him with some trepidation, unsure after their recent conversation what he was going to say.

“What’s up?”

“Speaking of my, erm, idiosyncrasies.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t anticipate staying the night. I don’t have a change of clothes. I can’t wear the same things tomorrow.”

Oh, was that all! Relief flooded Abby’s veins. “That’s no problem. I was about to launder some things before you arrived, so you can put whatever you want in the machine and I’ll wash it for you.”

“Oh, that would be great, but what will I wear instead?”

“Do you have to wear anything?” Abby said with a smirk.

“You want me naked the whole night?”

“It wouldn’t bother me,” replied Abby.

“Might scare the delivery driver when he arrives,” said Kane.

“True. How protective of your masculinity are you?”

Kane laughed. “what do you mean?”

“I mean I have some old baggy pyjamas that I like to lounge around in that might fit you, but they’re, erm, well you’ll see.”

“I think I’m confident enough in my masculinity. Are they pink or something?”

“There’s an element of pink, but that’s not it. Okay I’ll set them out for you in my room. Get changed and bring down what you want me to launder.” Abby went upstairs and put the pyjamas on the bed for Kane. She couldn’t wait to see if he would have the balls to wear them.

Kane came downstairs a few minutes later, his cheeks pink. He filled out the pyjamas nicely, his muscles straining at the material.

“These are not what I’d pictured you going to bed in,” he said, as he looked down at the shirt which had a picture of Snow White and one of her dwarves and had the slogan ‘Grumpy but Gorgeous’.

“It’s perfectly you,” said Abby with a laugh. “My mom sent them me from Disneyland. She always thinks I’m two sizes bigger than I am. I had puppy fat as a teenager. I think I’m still fourteen in her eyes.”

“Does she think you’re grumpy as well?

“Probably. I was a moody child.”

“I’m saying nothing. Do you want these?” said Kane, and he held out his shirt, underpants and socks to Abby. She took them and put them in the washing machine before adding the liquid and turning it on. There was no doubt about it, they’d reached peak domesticity, and it was only three days since they’d officially become a couple. At this rate they’d be married before the week was out. She laughed at the thought.

“What?” said Kane.

“Nothing.”

“How long will the food be?” said Kane with a raised eyebrow.

“Not long enough for what you’re thinking.”

Kane stretched, flexed his muscles, making the shirt stretch across his torso. His cock was a telling bulge in the pyjama bottoms. God help me, thought Abby, as she rounded the table and stood before him.

“You really have no right to look that sexy in those pyjamas.”

“It comes naturally,” replied Kane. “Oof!” he said as Abby moved in quick as lightning and squeezed him. She rubbed his cock hard through the cotton, and Kane groaned, pushed against her hand. A loud knock came at the door.

“Food’s here!” said Abby, and left him leaning against the table, his hands on the top for support, his cock straining against her pyjama bottoms, which were tight enough to begin with. When she returned with the food Kane mock glared at her.

“You are truly evil.”

“Nothing gets in the way of me and my dinner,” said Abby, and she smiled as she laid the cartons on the table. They sat opposite each other so they could easily share the meal and Abby couldn’t stop smiling at the sight of Kane in her pyjamas.

“What?” Kane said as he dipped a rice noodle roll into some soy sauce.

“We’re going to have to get you out of those clothes sooner rather than later.”

“I thought you said they were sexy?”

“You’d be sexier out of them.”

“It can be arranged.” He smiled as he bit into the roll.

“How was Manchester, apart from needing to escape it?”

“It was an interesting conference, some progressive ideas. You’d have loved it. I discussed our art therapy and its results.”

Abby paused as she was about to eat a dumpling. “You did?”

“Yes.”

Abby was surprised. He hadn’t told her he was going to do that or shown any recent interest in her results beyond presumably reading her weekly reports.

“They’d like you to come to the next conference,” continued Kane.

“They want to see me?”

“Yes. Well, you can explain it all in more detail than I could. I’ll be with you.”

“Okay.” Abby ate her dumpling and smiled, pleased that he had shown her and her work this respect and support.

Kane chased a dumpling round his plate before finally pronging it and eating it. He looked up at her while he chewed. “Was the day with Murphy a complete disaster?” he said when he’d swallowed the food.

“Oh, no. I’ve got the measure of him. We’ll be fine. He’s talented, Marcus, really talented, but he has no grace.”

“There’s a surprise,” mumbled Kane.

“I think I can teach him. He pretends he’s not interested or doesn’t care about his art, but he does. I could see it in the way he had total concentration for that hour, and he could have played the fool, done a stupid portrait or caricature but something in him wouldn’t let him, a pride, I think, in the art.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Whether he’ll make a good assistant is another matter.”

Kane rolled his eyes in response but didn’t speak.

They ate in silence for a while, the sound of the washing machine whirring the background music to their meal. Abby wondered whether she should tell Kane about her idea for the online gallery. Talking about Murphy as she had been doing had reignited her enthusiasm for the project. He might try to interfere, though, give her money or buy her an internet company or something ridiculous.

“What are you thinking?” said Kane in his unnervingly prescient way.

No more lying or hiding things, thought Abby. “I had an idea today.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. I thought maybe I could look into setting up an online gallery again, to show and hopefully sell my paintings.”

“Really?” He looked surprised but also pleased and trying not to show it.

“I did a Google search and found the girl who ran my website last time, Raven Reyes. She’s still doing the same work over in California.”

“An online gallery, eh? Via the internet.” He emphasised the last word, looking at her coolly with no hint of sarcasm or teasing but she knew damned well what he meant.

“Shut up,” she said, and Kane smiled.

“I think that’s a great idea. Your work needs to be seen, Abby, and not just by the numbskulls who’ll be at the Museum exhibition.”

“The thing is, I need a signature piece, something that will get the audience talking.”

“Oh, yes, and what would that be?” he said innocently as if he didn’t know what she meant.

Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have to go to work tomorrow?”

“Not until mid-morning.”

“Maybe if you find yourself… hanging out in the morning, and I happen to have my paints….”

“Hanging out? I see. You don’t want to paint me in these pyjamas?” he said, flexing his pectoral muscles so that they wriggled up and down beneath the t-shirt.

“Much as the world needs to see Councillor Kane in his Snow White pyjamas, I think without them would be preferable.”

“I think it all depends on how good you are to me tonight.”

“Do you?”

Kane nodded. “Indeed.” He put down his chopsticks, pushed his plate away. “As an incentive I will let you put your feet on me while we sit on your sofa.”

“You know how to treat a girl.”

“I do.” He came around to Abby’s side of the table, pulled out her chair and swept her up before she could protest, plonking her down on the sofa before sitting next to her and swinging her legs on to his.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, and the softness of his voice made Abby think he was talking about more than the meal.

“Thank you,” she said. “Do you want to watch a film? There’s a DVD in the machine, I was going to watch it tonight anyway.”

“What is it?”

“The Shawshank Redemption.”

“Bit of a busman’s holiday,” laughed Kane.

“You might learn something.”

“Yes, about how to control unruly people!” He kissed her, and then Abby pressed play on the machine and they settled back to watch the film.

\---

When Abby woke the next day Kane’s side of the bed was empty again. She turned towards it, put her hand on the sheet; it was still warm. The pyjamas were folded neatly on the chair where he’d put them the previous night before they’d made tired love and fallen asleep straight away. Perhaps he’d gone to the bathroom. Abby needed to pee so she got up and knocked softly on the door but there was no answer. She opened it and he was not in there. The shirt she’d laundered was still hanging suspended from the shower rail where she’d left it to dry, so he hadn’t sneaked out without telling her, not that she’d expected he would.

Abby padded downstairs and into the living room and was stopped dead in her tracks by the sight of Kane silhouetted in front of the garden window, a steaming cup of tea in hand. He was naked, the contours of his body outlined against the morning light, his arse firm and curved, his cock heavy and full of promise. Abby took a deep breath. Fuck, he was beautiful. Kane must have heard her because he turned and looked at her.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

“Don’t move,” said Abby.

“What?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She left Kane standing in front of the window and went into the kitchen, pulling on her boots before going out into the garden to her studio. She grabbed her easel, a new canvas and her brushes and paints and staggered back to the house with her load.

“Oh!” said Kane when he saw her enter the living room. He moved as if to help her but Abby stopped him.

“Seriously, don’t move a damned muscle.”

“I’m not sure I can comply with that,” replied Kane. “Seeing you like that is making one of my muscles move quite a lot!”

Abby looked down at herself. She was wearing her short white slip and her knee-high boots and nothing else. “Try and control yourself,” she laughed.

“I’ll try, but it’s not going to be easy.”

Abby smiled as she set the canvas on the easel. She made a few quick strokes to capture Kane’s profile. “Move as though you’re going to take a drink.”

Kane did as she asked.

“Stop there,” Abby said as he bent to put the cup to his lips. She captured him looking contemplative, a quiet moment before the storm of a busy day. His cock was at half-mast and rising, but Abby wanted it to go back to how it had been when she first saw him. This was a portrait, not erotica. “Stop thinking about whatever you’re thinking about,” she said.

“I’m thinking about you and how you look. I can’t help it.” Kane squeezed his cock beneath the head.

“Don’t touch yourself! You’ll make it worse.”

“I’m not. Squeezing here can make it go away sometimes, or delay it, depending on what you want to achieve.”

Abby could see his eyebrows rise in a smirk. “Oh, okay. Think about work or something as well. That should help.”

“I’ll think about work now, and then when I get to work I know all I’ll be thinking about is this moment. It’s going to be a difficult day.”

“You’ll survive.” Abby concentrated on the picture and the room went silent. Kane’s erection dissipated, and Abby painted that part of him quickly before he started thinking about her again. It was still flattering, how much she turned him on. The thought made her hot so she pushed it to the back of her mind and worked as quickly as she could to get the main elements of the painting down. She could refine it later when Kane had left for the prison.

“Am I allowed to speak?” Kane said after a few minutes of silence.

“No,” said Abby.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he replied, and Abby saw his cock twitch again. He really was hopeless. She’d better finish this up soon before they were both too distracted.

“Just a few more minutes,” she said. When she was satisfied she’d got everything she needed she put down her brushes. “You can relax now.”

Kane turned so he was facing her. “Can I see it?”

“Not yet. When it’s finished.” Abby turned the canvas around so he wouldn’t be able to sneak a peek. “Now, about you delaying your erection….” She went up to Kane and took his cock in her hand, stroking it into life while she reached up to kiss him.

“Are you going to do something about it?” moaned Kane.

“I think you deserve it for being a good model.” She sank to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, letting her tongue slide along its length. Kane pressed back against the window, his hands flat on the glass for support. He let out a long moan, and Abby sucked him until his knees were weak and he was half-sliding towards the floor, the glass squeaking as he lost his grip.

“Stop, stop,” he breathed, and Abby took him out of her mouth, sat back on her heels and looked up at him with a grin. “You’re going to kill me,” Kane said, and then he held out his hand and pulled Abby to her feet, spinning her until she was the one pressed against the glass. He knelt behind her, pushed up her slip and spread her cheeks apart. His tongue was hot and wet as it snaked between her lips and Abby pushed back against him. Kane brought her tantalisingly close to the edge, and just as she thought she would come he stood up and slid his cock inside her, pushing her forward so she was flat against the glass. He fucked her quick and hard and Abby was so ready to come it only took her a few strokes of her clit before she was pulsing around Kane. He followed a minute later, and they stood together against the window, their breaths misting the glass. Kane’s hands caressed her stomach, and he kissed her neck.

“I could start my day like this every day,” he whispered.

Abby didn’t answer, but right now, basking in the afterglow, with his arms around her and his hot body pressed against hers, she couldn’t disagree.

“I should shower, get ready,” said Kane in a reluctant tone.

“I’ll get the rest of your laundry,” said Abby, and she turned in his arms, gave him a quick kiss and then disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with his underwear from the dryer. “There’s some clean towels in the bathroom, I’ll get them for you.”

“It’s okay. I know where they are,” said Kane, and he took his clothes from her and disappeared upstairs. Abby put coffee grounds in the machine and popped two bagels in the toaster. There was no doubt she could get used to this, but she had to hold on to her decision to try and take things slow, for a while longer at least. She made Kane another cup of tea and by the time he came down from his shower breakfast was on the table.

“What will you do today?” said Kane when he’d finished his meal.

“I’ll finish the painting and I thought I’d email Raven, get the ball rolling on the online gallery.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Are you prepared for the exhibition this weekend?”

“Yes, I’ve picked out the paintings I’m going to exhibit. I have to take them to the museum Saturday morning.”

“You’re not going to exhibit the one you’ve just painted of me are you? I mean, I don’t mind being in your online gallery if that’s what you want but I’m not sure me or the town are ready for my cock to be on display.”

Abby laughed. “No, don’t worry. This is just for me for now. No one else will see it.”

Kane nodded. “I can help you take your paintings to the museum if you want.” He gathered their breakfast things together and washed them up in the sink.

“That’s probably not a good idea as you’re the judge,” said Abby.

“I’m not the only judge, but I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” said Abby with a smile.

“So you think,” replied Kane, and then he kissed her and went into the living room, putting on his jacket and picking up his briefcase. “Okay, I’d better go.”

“I’ll see you soon?” said Abby as she adjusted his tie and kissed him on the lips.

“I thought I might come along to your session tomorrow, get the measure of Murphy.” Kane glowered as he said the name.

“Oh, no, Marcus, there’s no need for that. I can handle him. Let me manage it myself, please.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Okay.” Kane stroked her face with his free hand, and then turned to unlock the door. “Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” said Abby, and when the door closed behind him and she was alone in the room a devil’s brew of emotions swirled up in her. She wished she hadn’t been so open with him the night before, crying all over his shirt like a young girl with no control of herself, and at the same time she was glad because it felt like another barrier between them was down, and that made her happy despite her wish to minimise their emotional connection.

She shook her head. Time to put Kane out of her mind and get on with her own tasks. She had to finish the painting of Kane, and despite what she’d told him she still had some finishing touches to put to a couple of the ones she planned to exhibit. She went to the laptop, opened the email programme and emailed Raven Reyes. It felt good to get the ball rolling on that project, like she was moving forward at last, after two years of standing still.


	12. Kane for Mayor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane persuades Abby out on the campaign with him, and their relationship doesn't go unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The website mentioned in the text is fully functioning and will be updated as the fic progresses. You can have a browse around it. If using a cellphone/mobile then click the box with three lines in it and you'll get a menu of other pages. Enjoy!

The following day Abby was at the prison for her Thursday session. Murphy and Doctor Jackson were waiting for her in the room but this time Jackson didn’t stay to chaperone.

“Set out the equipment, please,” said Abby and to her surprise Murphy did as she asked without complaint.

“How’s Governor Kane?” he said to her as he put the prisoners’ artwork on the easels.

“You tell me.” Any animosity Abby had felt towards Murphy on Tuesday had gone after her conversation with Kane. If anything, she was happy that he’d told her what he had, for it had led to a greater understanding between her and Kane.

“He was in the canteen yesterday looking very pleased with himself.”

Abby didn’t respond, but she smiled as she put her own painting on her easel. She’d started one of the cave yesterday, an abstract picture where she was trying to capture the solitude of the place, that feeling she’d had where she was at the end of the world. Something wasn’t working, though; it looked apocalyptic rather than pensive or inspiring.

“What do you see in him?” continued Murphy. “It’s like he has a stick up his arse the whole time. He wouldn’t bend even in a force ten gale.”

Abby stifled a laugh at Murphy’s description of Kane. “Who says I see anything in him?”

“Like that is it? You just keep him to tickle your fancy.”

This time Abby couldn’t contain her laugh. “Tickle my what?” she asked even though she dreaded what the answer could be. Murphy wouldn’t hold back.

“You know, to entertain you, warm you up on a cold night, not that I can imagine Kane being any good at that, or anything really. Does he schedule an appointment with you? Like, does he send you a note saying present yourself for coitus at eight-thirty, don’t be late.”

Fuck! Abby was dying inside, her stomach muscles aching from holding her laughter in. “I’m sure I have never had such a conversation with Governor Kane. Now, did you think about how you’re going to help Williams today?”

Murphy grinned at her. “You’re expecting me to say no, aren’t you?”

“I’m expecting you to tell me the truth.”

“I did think about it, actually. I thought he needs to let himself go, so maybe he should concentrate less on form and more on loosening up his brush strokes.”

“Then perhaps you should guide him today.” Abby was impressed that Murphy had considered what she’d asked him to, let alone come up with an interesting solution. Murphy shrugged in response, but when the prisoners entered the room he attached himself to Williams and was mostly quiet for the rest of the session.

Five minutes before the session was due to end the door opened and Kane walked in. Abby’s heart leapt as it tended to do these days when she saw him, and then it sank a little because she’d expressly told him not to interfere between her and Murphy and yet here he was. Murphy turned to see who had entered, and then looked at Abby with a smirk.

“You have a visitor, Mrs Griffin,” he said.

“I can see that, John, thank you.”

Abby walked over to Kane. “What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t need you to interfere,” she whispered.

“I’m not here for Murphy. I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left.”

“Why?”

“I have a question for you.”

“And you can’t text all of a sudden?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, and he grazed the back of her hand with his as he turned to survey the room. Abby grew warm, and looked away so Murphy, who was staring at them both, couldn’t see the smile on her face.

“How are you, Governor?” said Murphy.

“Busy,” replied Kane with a glare.

“And yet you have time to come and see us. I’m sure we’re all touched, unless it isn’t us you’ve come to see.” Murphy glanced around to the other prisoners who were all staring and smiling.

Abby closed her eyes. Why couldn’t Kane have texted her to go to his office rather than coming here? Didn’t he anticipate this would be the result? Kane ignored Murphy and instead walked around the room, inspecting the prisoners’ work, speaking to them. When he’d finished his circuit he returned to Abby. “Do you mind if I address them?” he said.

“Not at all.”

Kane strode forward, stood with his hands behind his back. “Mrs Griffin and I have been invited to discuss the benefits of this project with other prison governors and I am looking for a volunteer who is willing to attend with us and talk about what the project has meant to them.”

Silence.

“What’s in it for us?” said Murphy after an excruciating few seconds where Abby didn’t know whether to interfere.

“Nothing for you, Murphy. Obviously it’s a day release from the prison, albeit not on your own recognisance.”

“Not sure a day spent with you is an incentive,” said Murphy with a roll of his eyes.

“Likewise, hence why you will not be attending.”

“Are you allowed to discriminate against me like that? I have as much right to go as anyone else!”

“Are you allowed to give your mouth a rest for longer than a few seconds, or is someone paying you by the word?”

Murphy’s mouth hung open at Kane’s response and Abby was surprised too. Was she witnessing some lingering hostility towards Murphy after what he’d said to Abby on Tuesday?

“I’ll go.” A timid voice came from the back of the room. It was Williams.

“Thank you, Williams. Mrs Griffin will give you the details.” Kane returned to stand next to Abby, who decided to wrap up the session before Murphy regained his composure.

“That will be all for today. Thank you everybody.” The prisoners filed out of the room, leaving Murphy standing by his stool, glaring at Kane. “I’ll clear up, John, thank you,” said Abby and she put her hand in Murphy’s back and ushered him out of the room.

“What was that about?” she said to Kane when they were alone.

“What, Murphy? Nothing, he winds me up that’s all.”

“I can see that. Is it because of what he said to me the other day?”

“No, it’s not, honestly. He’s always rubbed me up the wrong way.” Kane took Abby in his arms and kissed her.

“Is that what you came to tell me? That you wanted a participant to come with us to Manchester?” Abby put her hands on his arse, pressed him to her.

“No. I decided that on the spot, after talking to a few of the prisoners. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes, it’s fine, it’s a good idea. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wondered if you wanted to come on the hustings with me tonight?”

“On the campaign? You want me with you?”

“You are my publicist.”

“Do I get to wear one of those Kane for Mayor t-shirts?”

“If you like. I had some made up with the new slogan.”

Abby was interested to see what the meeting would be like but she wasn’t convinced being seen with Kane was the best strategy for him. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be seen with me? What about the letters?”

Kane stood back, perched on the edge of one of the tables. “I’ve been thinking about those.”

“And?”

“You were right. They’re not important, just someone messing around. I’m not going to let them stop me doing what I want, and what I want is you by my side.”

He wanted her by his side. Did that mean he was going public about their relationship, or did he simply mean he wanted her support? The latter probably. “I’ll be there then, yes. It will be interesting watching you at work, making sure you put our message across properly.”

“Our message?” Kane said in an amused voice.

“I did write half your new slogan.”

“That’s true, you did. I’ll pick you up at seven then.”

“I’ll be waiting.” They lingered in each other’s arms for a moment, kissing a long goodbye, and then Abby pulled away with a sigh. “Tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” said Kane, and Abby left before they got carried away again and finished what they’d started in this room some three months ago.

\---

Back at home Abby switched on the laptop and checked her email. There was nothing from Raven but it had only been a couple of days and the girl was probably in high demand. Maybe she was embarrassed to receive an email from Abby. She wouldn’t be the first. Many of Abby’s fellow artists and clients had been victims of her ex-husband’s scam and whilst no one had blamed her outright she’d known from the awkward silences when she met people, and the unanswered calls and emails that they were embarrassed by her situation, or worse thought she was somehow complicit. Even though the police investigation had exonerated her completely, the smell of scandal stuck to her. She didn’t think Raven was like that, so she wasn’t going to worry about it just yet.

She opened her browser and stared at it for a moment. Kane’s latest leaflet was sitting on her desk and there was a website at the bottom which she’d never noticed before. She typed the address, [www.marcuskane.com](https://marcuskaneformayor.wixsite.com/marcuskane) into the browser and his face appeared against a backdrop of Lancaster and the Lake District hills. It was the same photo he used in all his publicity material, Kane staring impassively into the camera, his open-necked white shirt meant to make him look casual but somehow he still looked stern, as though he was about to give you a dressing down. The slogan they’d worked on together was his strapline and there was another motto below: “Being a good leader means knowing which battles to fight.” An unusual headline for your front page maybe, but she supposed politics was all about battles and there was no point getting bogged down in an unwinnable one.

At the bottom of the page was the latest news, Kane to judge the art exhibition, Kane on the hustings, Kane appoints advertising manager and publicist. Wait, what? Abby read the brief article.

_Councillor Kane has appointed local artist and teacher, Mrs Abigail Griffin as his advertising manager and publicist. Mrs Griffin will primarily be working on the media and publicity side of Kane's campaign._

He’d deemed that worthy of a news item? No wonder the whole town knew everything they were up to. Abby would question the wisdom of having a news article about appointing a local artist adjacent to one about judging the art exhibition, but it was his site. She already knew he wasn’t worried about a conflict of interest, although Abby thought perhaps he should be, especially after the recent letters.

She clicked on the Meet Marcus page and was faced with another stern photo of Kane, in a pose very similar to the one she’d painted of him when he’d first come to her session in the prison. She scanned through the biographical information and the impressive achievements he had made already, and he was only forty-three! How he could ever think Abby was comparable with him as an over-achiever she didn’t know.

The information on his time as Councillor was all new to her, the most surprising being that he had a foundation! How did she not know any of this? One Decision Foundation it was called, an unusual name, presumably based on the quote he had at the top of the page, “one decision does not define a man.” What did that mean? It must be significant for him to name his foundation after it. The final sentence caught her eye. “Marcus Kane is divorced with no children.” So he’d never had kids with his wife. She didn’t think he had; even estranged fathers had at least one picture of their offspring and Kane had nothing familial in his house at all. She wondered if it had been a deliberate decision not to have children, or whether they didn’t want them, or couldn’t have them. Another question she’d love to ask, but then she hated it when people asked her why she didn’t have kids, so she didn’t feel comfortable putting Kane in that position, and then of course that would leave the door open for him to ask her.

She was about to click on the link to his foundation page when she noticed the time. Kane would be here in an hour and she hadn’t eaten or showered or done anything useful. That was the internet for you. She was going to impose a limit on her use of the computer. No more than half an hour a day at the most.

When Kane arrived he was in a different suit, one Abby hadn’t seen before. It was black, the trousers skinny and the jacket single-breasted and tight-fitting. He had a white shirt beneath it and a black tie and he looked so handsome Abby thought she’d vote for him even if she disagreed with everything he said.

“You look really good,” she said as she kissed him hello.

“Thank you.”

“So there’s a meet and greet first, and then a debate, right?”

Kane moved in front of the mirror, checked his hair, smoothing down a wayward curl. “Yes, how do you know that?”

“Oh, I was on your website earlier. I didn’t know you had a website.”

“It’s on all the flyers.”

“Yes. I hadn’t noticed it.”

Kane turned his head to look at her. “Really? Maybe it isn’t prominent enough.”

“It could be more obvious, yes.” Abby moved in front of Kane, checking herself in the mirror as well. She was so much shorter than Kane he could still see over her head. She watched as he bent to kiss her hair. “I didn’t know you had a Foundation,” she said, keeping her eyes on his in the mirror.

Mirror Kane moved her hair from her neck, kissed her there. “Hmmm,” he whispered. “Five years now.” He pulled Abby’s dress from off her shoulder, pressed another kiss. Abby moaned.

“It’s an unusual name, One Decision. Where did that come from?”

“That’s a long story,” said Kane, and he pulled her dress back up and stood straight, looking at her in the mirror.

“Will you tell me?”

“Yes, when we have time, which we don’t right now.” He looked at his watch. “We need to get going.”

Abby nodded, picked up her bag from the sofa. She wasn’t sure if he was putting her off with the hope that she’d forget about it. There was something in his eyes when he’d looked in the mirror at her, a blackness, an unfathomable depth. One decision doesn’t define a man. What decision had Marcus made that he thought had come to define him and wished it didn’t? Becoming a prison governor rather than a politician? Marrying Caroline? Divorcing her? Something that had such a profound impact on him he’d named his charity after it, put his money behind it, money that she didn’t know how he’d got. There was a lot about Marcus Kane she didn’t know.

\---

The Town Hall was already crowded when they walked through the door. People turned to look and Abby noticed more than a few raised eyebrows as Kane put his hand in the small of her back and ushered her through the throng. She couldn’t help looking closely at people as she passed them, smiling politely but inside she was wondering about the letter writer, if it was one of them. Kane’s hand was hot on her back and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. They headed to a table at the back of the room where Kane’s team, if you can call a young boy and girl who were more interested in each other than their jobs a team, were standing behind a trestle table. The new leaflets she’d designed were fanned out across the surface and a poster version was pinned to the wall. A stack of t-shirts sat on the edge of the table. Kane picked one up and showed it to Abby.

“I thought you wanted to wear this tonight?” he said with a smile.

Abby took the t-shirt from him, checked its size and then tucked it into her capacious handbag. “I will later,” she whispered, and Kane’s face grew pink.

He turned her to the side so his team couldn’t see what he was saying. “Does it bring back memories, being here?” he said.

“Of what?” said Abby with a wide-eyed innocent look.

Kane smirked and was about to say something when someone tapped him on the back and called his name. He turned to see who it was and within a second had been swept away to shake hands with someone Abby had never seen before. The young boy and girl looked at Abby with the same grin on their faces and she smiled back, even though she suspected they were amused by her and Kane. Old people in relationships always seemed silly to the young and vice versa.

“Have you been campaigning for Councillor Kane for long?” she said for want of something to say or do.

“He pays us,” said the boy.

“Ah,” replied Abby.

“Jordon wants to be a politician like the Councillor,” said the girl. “It’s good experience for him.” She looked at the boy with adoring eyes.

“Oh, I see. Are you funded by Councillor Kane’s Foundation?”

“Dunno.” Jordon shrugged and Abby figured the girl had more of a political career ahead of her than he did.

“You’re doing a great job,” she said lamely.

“Abby!” Kane’s voice cut through the noise of the room and she looked up to see him waving her to him. She pushed through the people to stand by his side. “This is Councillor Muir,” he said, indicating a small dark-haired woman. “You may remember her from the selection night. This is Abby Griffin, my, er, campaign manager.”

Abby shook hands with Councillor Muir. “Lovely to meet you,” she said. She was surprised to have been arbitrarily promoted to campaign manager.

“Kane beat me in the selection event,” said Councillor Muir.

“I recall,” replied Abby. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Muir waved her hand in dismissal. “I was never likely to beat him. He knows where all the bodies are buried in this town.”

“I do not,” said Kane, with a laugh that sounded frustrated to Abby.

“Will you be voting for the Councillor in the election?” said Abby.

“I expect so. I’ve had enough of Jaha.” Muir rolled her eyes and Abby smiled politely. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for Kane but she supposed every vote counted.

“Councillor Kane! Over here!” Another voice cried out to Kane and he left Abby with an apologetic smile. She stood next to Councillor Muir, listened while she droned on about how much better her policies would have been than Kane’s. Abby’s eyes were fixed on Kane, watching what he was doing, who he met, who was trying to get his attention. A baby was thrust into his arms and he held it at arm’s length as though it were a bomb about to explode.

“Would you excuse me?” Abby left Muir and headed over to Kane. She stood in front of him, stroked the baby’s head and looked at the parents, who seemed alarmed at the way Kane dangled the baby in front of him.

“Cute baby,” Abby said. “What’s the name?” She nodded as the mother told her, and managed to push the child back towards Kane and bring his arm tighter around it hopefully without anyone noticing what she was doing. A photographer with a professional-looking camera took a photograph and the father of the child snapped the scene on his smartphone.

“Councillor Kane’s education policies are designed to give all children opportunities from the moment they first enter the educational system.” Abby had only gleaned this earlier from Kane’s website and she looked at Kane in the hope he would save her from having to speak further because she didn’t know what else to say. He was staring at her, his mouth slightly open. Abby raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, erm that’s right,” Kane said, finding his voice at last. He handed the baby to Abby who cooed at it and tried to ignore the smell emanating from its diaper. Kane outlined his policies to the parents and after that he and Abby were a team, she seeking out good photo opportunities for him and making sure he didn’t drop any children or pets and he enthusing his potential voters with his ideas.

They finally got a break when the evening’s compere announced the meet and greet was over and there would be a recess before the debate began. Abby and Kane made their way to the table at the back of the room. Jordon and his girlfriend were nowhere to be seen. Abby pulled herself up onto the table, kicked off her high heels which were pinching her.

Kane perched next to her, sipping from a bottle of water. “You were fantastic out there,” he said.

“It’s amazing what you can pick up from reading a website,” said Abby with a laugh.

“It’s not just that. The way you handled everyone, found the right people for me to talk to. I’m impressed.”

“Well, you know, I did a lot of this kind of thing in London, and in LA. Not political events obviously, but gallery openings and exhibitions. It’s all the same thing. I had my paintings to sell and I had to persuade people to buy them. This is pretty much the same except you’re the painting.”

Kane gave her a searching look. “I didn’t realise you did all that.”

“All part of the job, if you don’t want to starve.”

“I looked you up, you know,” he said, turning away from her to look out over the crowd.

“Did you?” Abby didn’t know what to make of this revelation, or where it was leading.

“Yes, after you told me about your gallery in Glendale.”

“Oh. And?”

“You’re very talented. I mean I knew you were from what I’ve seen, but some of the paintings you’ve done. They blew me away.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. I didn’t realise the website was still available.”

“It isn’t. I did a Google search. There were pictures of your paintings, and of you.”

“You googled me?” Abby didn’t know how to feel about this. It was a thing people did these days, she knew that, and she’d done it to Murphy she couldn’t deny it, but not to Kane. Tempted though she’d been, she’d held back, thinking he would tell her what he wanted her to know, or she’d ask him face to face. Now she found he’d googled her. What was out there? How much did he know?

“Just you the artist, don’t worry,” he said when he saw the look of shock on her face.

“What did you see?”

“Your paintings, comments about them, praise for your work, some pictures of you.”

“Did you see things about, you know, the scandal?”

“I saw headlines but I didn’t look at them, I didn’t read anything about it, Abby, I promise. I just wanted to know about your art. I was intrigued.” Kane put his hand over hers where it was resting on the table, squeezed it reassuringly.

“Okay.”

“Have you googled me?” he said.

“No. I didn’t even know you had a website until today.”

Kane nodded, took his hand from hers as people walked past them and looked.

“Do you really know where all the bodies in this town are buried?” Abby had been deathly curious about this comment ever since Councillor Muir had made it.

Kane looked at her. “Some, inevitably, but not the way people seem to think.”

“Why do they think that, then?”

“Some people see me as a kind of Machiavellian character, I don’t know why. I’m aloof, I suppose. Nights like this are torture for me, having to smile and glad-hand, but it’s all part of the job, like you selling your paintings.”

“Enough people must like you, you were voted as candidate after all.”

“You don’t have to like someone to agree with their policies or believe they’ll do a good job. That’s all I care about. Looks like I’m up,” he said as he jumped off the table. On the stage two daises had been set out and Mayor Jaha was moving through the crowd towards the stage, shaking hands with the same people Kane had been talking to earlier.

“I like you,” said Abby, as she felt their conversation had taken a sombre tone and she wanted him geed up for the debate.

Kane smiled. “Well, you’re extraordinary. I already told you that.” He laced his fingers through hers briefly and then left to head up to the stage.

Abby stayed where she was, sitting on the trestle table, her bare feet swinging in the air. She listened to the debate. Kane might think he was aloof, and that had certainly been her impression when she’d first met him, but he came alive up on the stage. He was passionate, animated, knowledgeable. Jaha was too, and the debate was lively, heated. Abby had never been involved in local politics before, or any kind of politics apart from voting in national elections when it was required of her. The arena may be small, the voters few comparatively, but the issues were real, and in some ways more important because they directly impacted everyone in the room, and there would be no hiding from them if Kane became Mayor. He’d be judged and held to account every day. He was braver than Abby.

When the debate ended Abby put on her shoes and mingled amongst the voters, wanting to get a feel for how Kane had performed. The general consensus was positive, and Kane must have felt the same because he was grinning when he found her. He’d removed his tie and opened his shirt and looked relaxed.

“What did you think?” he said.

“You were passionate and came across really well,” replied Abby. “You did a great job.”

“I thought that too. The audience responded better to me than Jaha.”

“Definitely. I’ve been talking to quite a few people, and listening, and that’s the general consensus.”

“Oh, good.” Kane smiled again. The official photographer approached him for a photograph, and Kane put his arm round Abby, his hand resting on her hip, pulling her closer to him. “Is this alright?” he whispered.

“Yes,” said Abby, not entirely sure it was the right thing to do, but she wanted to support him, and they were a couple now after all. They had nothing to hide.

The photographer took pictures of them from different angles and showed them the results on the small screen. Kane was beaming, looking happier than Abby had ever seen him. She looked like she was about to come out with a sarcastic comment as usual.

When the photographer had gone Kane took a deep breath and looked at Abby. “Guess we’re official, then,” he said.

“Guess we are.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“As long as I don’t have to hold cream teas for the other wives it’s okay.”

“A fate worse than death. I’d never force that on you.”

“Can we go?” said Abby. “I want to get out of these heels.”

“Oh, really?” replied Kane. “Don’t you want to visit our room before we leave?”

“That might be pushing our luck,” laughed Abby. “You can stay at my place, though, if you want.”

“Well, not that I was being presumptuous, but I do have an overnight bag in my car.”

“You do? Does that mean I’m spared having to launder your underwear again?”

“Unless you feel a great need to do it then yes, you’re relieved of that duty.”

“Good,” said Abby, reaching up so she could whisper in his ear. “Because I don’t want to waste any time when we get back.”

“What are you going to do?” Kane’s face was so close to hers she could feel his warm breath on her eyelashes.

“I’m going to broaden your education,” she said, and smiled as Kane let out a sharp breath.

“I’ll be a good pupil,” he said, and he took Abby’s hand and led her across the room, smiling and nodding at the remaining people as they went. When they were outside in the cold air he opened the car door for her and as soon as they were both inside he leaned across and his kisses were so hot Abby would have jumped on him in the car if it hadn’t been so small and cramped.

“Let’s go home,” she breathed, and sat back with her heart thumping as Kane put his foot down and raced up the lane to her cottage.


	13. The Exhibition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby exhibits her paintings at the museum and finds out more about Kane

Saturday morning Abby was up early organising her canvases ready for the art exhibition that afternoon. She had to be at the museum in Lancaster by lunchtime and having refused Marcus’s help for fear it would make him look biased she was faced with transporting everything by herself in her Volvo. She decided to spend her allotted half hour at the computer whilst eating her breakfast so the time wouldn’t feel wasted. When she checked her email there were two messages. The first was from Marcus about the exhibition.

_Abby,_

_Break a leg today or whatever you arty types say._

_Yours, not biased at all,_

_Marcus x_

Her heart felt warm and grew a couple of sizes when she read his brief words and she smiled. The second email was from Raven, and Abby opened it with no small amount of trepidation. The first word eased all her fears and Abby smiled even more as she read Raven’s response.

_Abby!!!!_

_So great to hear from you. OMG I missed you so much girl! OF COURSE I want to help you set up a gallery again. The world needs to see your talent. So sorry that bastard husband screwed you over. If I ever see him I’ll kill him have no fear. What are you doing still over there in the UK? When are you coming back to some sunshine?_

_I’m fine, thank you so much for asking. I’m dating this guy, cute as a button, you’d love him. He’s almost as much of a computer geek as me but not quite – no one can touch the Raven!_

_Tell me all your news! How do you want to go forward with this? Do you want to email me your ideas or we can Skype, don’t know if you’ve heard of that you being such a Luddite, although you must have a computer if you’re emailing – hmmm – what’s going on with you??!!_

_Get in touch soon!_

_Love you._

_Raven xxxxxxx_

Abby welled up with tears as she read Raven’s email. She could picture the girl’s warm, open face, her big brown eyes and wide smile. Since the scandal, Abby had hidden herself away from everyone, run away literally to a place where no one knew her, where she could be someone else if she wanted. Reading Raven’s words she realised she’d missed so much by cutting herself off. Yes, she’d shielded herself from the bad things, from the hurt and pain, but she’d also rejected the good people, the ones who cared for her and loved her. Raven, bless her, hadn’t even berated her for not being in touch for two years, she’d just accepted her with words that sang with her warmth and friendship. It was overwhelming. Abby responded straight away, wanting to acknowledge Raven’s kind words.

_Raven_

_I’m so glad you want to help me with the gallery. I have a lot of ideas and I’d love to Skype with you about them. Yes, you did read that right. I said Skype! So, I guess my main news is that I’m living in this small northern town in the middle of nowhere and it’s beautiful and strange and crazy but I kind of love it._

_The other news is I met someone. He’s, well, he’s nothing like he who will not be named. He’s tall and dark and handsome – I know that’s a cliché but it’s true! He’s very British (well Scottish but it’s all the same thing) and someone said the other day that it’s like he has a stick up his ass and that’s kind of a good description! But he’s loving and kind and sexy and I really like his odd ways and, oh, the way he pronounces certain words – you know how sexy the British always sound! LOL – see I know the text language now. I’ll be using those smiley faces you love so much next! Anyway, he’s the one who got me the computer and taught me Skype and I guess he’s dragging me reluctantly into the 21 st century. I’m not sure if you’d love him straight away – he’s kind of an acquired taste – but he makes me happy. His name is Marcus. A photographer got a picture of us the other day and I’ll try and get it from him and send it to you._

_I’ve got a few things on this weekend but I just wanted to respond to you and say how much it means to me to hear from you. Email me with some times that are good for you to Skype._

_I love you too._

_Abby xx_

Abby switched off the computer and sat back sipping her coffee. She felt light of heart from receiving both Marcus’s and Raven’s emails. It was going to be a good day whatever happened. She finished her breakfast, loaded her car with the canvases and then showered and changed.

Abby arrived at the museum bang on midday and was soon setting up in her allotted space. She didn’t have any paintings from her life before, having chosen to sell the ones she’d made in the dark times following the scandal. They weren’t in her usual style, and she didn’t like any of them. The money had helped fund the rent on her cottage in Arkchester. Most of her recent paintings were of the villages she’d ventured to in the local area, the castle at Hornby, the bridges over the river Lune. She seemed to have developed a fascination with stone, its textures and colours, and when she looked at the paintings spread out on the wall she realised she’d been playing it safe. There was nothing adventurous about what she’d been creating. The only picture that had real life to it was the one of the cave she’d just completed. It looked like a giant mouth, the jaws gaping, the stones teeth waiting to clamp down on anyone daring to venture inside. It wasn’t how she’d felt at the time because they’d had fun in there laughing at themselves, but somehow it had transformed into something dark and moody in her mind. She liked it. She’d included the painting of the dahlia, even though it was nothing like the rest. She’d wanted something that reminded her of Marcus, as she couldn’t exhibit her portrait of him.

When she’d finished her display, Abby looked around at the other exhibitors. Diana Sydney was across the room, standing with arms folded, talking to Mrs Murphy. They both turned and looked at Abby, as though sensing she was looking at them. Abby sighed deeply. She’d better go and say hello. Diana was standing in front of an exhibition of portraits that were naïve in form if Abby were to be kind. Her name was above the stand, so they must be hers. Abby had seen her students produce better work and they were barely even interested in art.

“Diana, Mary. So nice to see you here. I didn’t know you painted, Diana?”

“I dabble. Only amateur of course, not a professional like yourself.” She smiled sweetly but Abby could taste the venom behind the words as she was meant to do.

“I think it’s a wonderful thing that the exhibition is open to all local artists,” Abby said with her own fake smile.

“Depends on your definition of local, I suppose, but yes.”

“Your portraits are of people in the town?” Abby said, ignoring the jibe. She recognised Jaha well enough, and one that she thought might be Mr Hussein from the local store. It didn’t look much like him, but the character was standing behind a counter covered in crudely-drawn sweet jars and lottery ticket dispensers.

“Yes, as you can see. Mayor Jaha, Abdul, Councillor Kane.” The last name slid off her tongue like butter off a hot knife, a knife sharpened so that its point could be jabbed into Abby to cause her pain.

“Councillor Kane?” said Abby before she could stop herself.

“Yes, this one.” Diana pointed to a dark-haired figure staring coquettishly into the eyes of the viewer, head tipped at an angle as though he was beckoning you to him. Abby would never in a million years have guessed that was Kane. “I painted that some time ago,” said Diana slyly.

“Did you?” replied Abby. “How lovely.”

“He was a most impatient subject, but then I’m sure you know that.”

Abby smiled again, her face aching with the strain of it. She turned instead to Mrs Murphy. “Are you exhibiting, Mary?”

“I am,” replied Mary in her soft Irish lilt that Abby always found captivating. “I’m in my still life phase.”

“Oh, I love those works of yours. Show me.” Abby followed Mary to her stand with Diana trailing behind. She’d hoped to lose the woman, but it was not meant to be.

She spent a few minutes talking about Mary’s paintings. “You know your son has a lot of talent,” she said. “He clearly gets it from you.”

“My son? You mean John?”

“Yes, John. He’s assisting me with my work at the prison. Didn’t you know?”

Mary shook her head. “He doesn’t tell me anything. I’m lucky if I get hello or goodbye when I visit.”

“You must tell him all the gossip though, I bet, keep him up to date?” Abby smiled conspiratorially, and Mary laughed.

“He does like to know what’s going on. Makes him feel more involved, I suppose.”

“Yes, I’m sure it does.” So Mary was the source of Murphy’s knowledge about her and Marcus and probably about Marcus’s past, his involvement with Jaha and Caroline. “Have you been in Arkchester a long time?”

“Too long.” Mary rolled her eyes as though it were obvious to Abby why she was tired of the town. “Since before John was born. Do you like it here?”

“It has its good points and its bad points I guess, but yes, overall I do like it.”

“You’ll be staying then?” said Diana with a sniff.

“Who knows what the future will bring,” replied Abby, keen not to give either of these women more to gossip about.

“I just presumed, after that scene with you and Councillor Kane.”

“A scene?”

“The other night, at the town hall. Sitting on the table together like two teenagers. Everyone was commenting on it.”

“Well, it’s better to be talked about than not talked about, isn’t that what they say?”

“You’re misquoting Oscar Wilde,” said Diana, a triumphant gleam in her eye.

“That’s because I’m an Art major and not an English major,” Abby said. “I must go and finish my preparations. Good luck!”

She heard Mary Murphy mumble something to Diana about being petty, and hoped it was directed at that horrible woman and not Abby. Abby thought she’d kept her cool pretty well during those exchanges. Diana’s dislike of her, her jealousy was so obvious it was laughable. She’d succeeded in landing a blow with her comments about Marcus sitting for his portrait. Was she trying to say that she’d been intimate in some way with him in the past? It certainly felt that way. The thought of Diana Sydney being one of his conquests made Abby feel sick. She was awful. What would Marcus have seen in her? How desperate was he if it were true? No, stop, stop. She mustn’t imagine the worst without asking him first. Find out the truth from the man himself. No more believing the lies and half-truths of people with hidden agendas.

At three o’clock the doors opened and the paying public entered. It was a large room with wood-panelled walls and huge stained-glass windows. It soon filled with people and Abby stood by as they examined her work, some critically, most casting an eye before moving on to the next thing. It didn’t bother her; she was used to it. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stay next to her display or not. No one had given her any instructions. Half an hour later and Marcus strode in, flanked by Jaha, Councillor Muir and another heavy-set man Abby hadn’t seen before. Marcus was wearing a version of his work suit, this one a blue so dark it was almost black, his usual white shirt and a blue tie. He was talking animatedly with Jaha about something, waving his arms in the air in front of him. Politics probably. A woman asked Abby about her painting of Hornby Castle and she turned away from watching Marcus to answer.

When she’d finished talking to the woman she turned again and Marcus was standing behind her. She jumped, and then laughed, putting her hand to her beating heart.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb your conversation.”

“No, it’s fine. How are you?”

“Better for seeing you.” He smiled, and Abby smiled, and they looked at each other. The air felt heavy, like before a storm, and Abby caught her breath. She fancied if she touched him now electricity would spark and they’d be consumed. “Are you okay?” Marcus said, frowning.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Am I supposed to stand here all afternoon do you know? No one has told me anything.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. You have to be here for the official judging at five because then we’ll be asking you questions, but until then you’re free to do what you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Is that our cave?” said Marcus as he moved towards the painting.

“Yes.”

“Wow. The End of the World,” he said, reading her label. He looked at her. “Is that how you saw our encounter in there?”

Abby had anticipated this question from him. “No, not directly, although I remember looking out as we were on the bench and thinking that we could be at the end of the world, the last two people on earth. I guess that’s how it translated in my mind.”

“I really like it. It’s threatening and yet I’m drawn to it. I want to go inside even though I fear it might be the last thing I do and it will swallow me up.”

Abby nodded. “It can be frightening, entering the unknown, giving yourself up to it.”

“Something that has the potential to destroy you can make you feel like that.” Marcus rubbed at his bottom lip as he contemplated her.

“There might be something wonderful in there, though, but you’ll never know unless you go in.” Abby’s heart beat faster, a warm shiver running through her.

“I could get lost in it,” he whispered.

“That’s the risk you have to take I guess.”

“I suppose it is.” Marcus put his hand to Abby’s face, his fingers grazing her cheekbones. He had forgotten where they were and so had Abby. She put her hand on his and then a voice made them both jump apart.

“Good job you don’t have the casting vote this year, Kane,” said Jaha, his mouth set in a thin line so the words seemed forced out.

“I’m quite capable of being impartial.”

“Of course, of course.” Jaha smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “You are very talented, Abby,” he added.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of questions for you later.”

“I look forward to it.”

Jaha moved on and Marcus looked at Abby. “I should go,” he said with a rueful smile. He turned to leave but Abby pulled him back, pulled him in close to her so she was whispering into his ear.

“Are you going to fuck me later? Because I’m so hot. I’m so hot right now.”

Marcus’s stuttering breath was warm against her face. “Don’t, don’t, Jesus. I have to walk around in here. I have to see people.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, yes, God,” he groaned. “As soon as we get out of here.”

“My car is out back.”

“Your car?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes.” Abby pushed him away, and Marcus looked at her, his cheeks flushed before turning on his heels and walking after Jaha. She could see him stretching his leg out, pulling his trousers loose to hide his excitement, and she smiled. She’d rather have taken him outside now, but this way the anticipation could build, and that was already making her throb.

She enjoyed the rest of the time with the public, chatting about her art, about the town. She had a decent collection of business cards from people interested in commissioning her, and she was happy. There were no questions or comments about Marcus, although more than a few people looked her over as though to get the measure of the woman who had seduced him into sitting on tables with her. Just before five o’clock the doors were closed and the room became quiet again. The only people remaining were the artists, each standing by their displays, and the four judges, who commenced their rounds. Abby was on the other side of the room so she figured she’d have a long wait until they got to her.

“Mrs Griffin,” said Jaha when they finally arrived at her exhibit.

“Abby, please.”

“Yes. May I introduce the judges. This is Councillor Muir, Councillor Fuji, and you know Councillor Kane of course.”

“Thank you for inviting me to exhibit.” Abby focused on Jaha and not Marcus, who was standing stiffly with his hands behind his back, and it was making Abby want to laugh.

“In the event of a tie in the judging,” continued Jaha. “I will have the casting vote.” He looked poignantly at her as though Abby was only dating Marcus in order to win this competition or whatever it was. She wasn’t even here for that; it was merely an opportunity to get back into the swing of things, to show her work, get a commission if she was lucky.

“I understand.”

“Your work is very striking, Abby,” said Councillor Fuji, who was the large man she’d seen Marcus with earlier. “Especially this one here.” He pointed to the cave picture. Abby was regretting including that after her conversation with Marcus. It was going to be difficult talking about it with him standing there. He was trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible but was having the opposite effect, his presence looming large in her vision and her mind.

“Thank you. I think that came out darker than I intended, more apocalyptic.”

“Is it a scene from the local area like your other paintings?”

“Inspired by the general area, but it’s from my own imagination.” Abby didn’t want to betray Marcus’s secret place to these people.

“It’s unlike anything we’ve seen today,” said Councillor Fuji, and Abby wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.

“I must say, Abby, that your village scenes are unusual as well,” said Councillor Muir. “We get a lot of landscapes and such but nothing like these. It’s astonishing how you focus on such small details and yet I can tell the subject because you choose the right focus, the iconic elements.”

“That is something I’ve discovered since I came to Lancashire. I really love the stone and the way it changes its mood depending on the light and the weather. The old buildings have such beautiful detail. In some of the villages it’s as though they’ve been carved straight out of the ground, they are so at one with their surroundings.”

“It must be very different from America for you. Where are you from?”

“California. Yes, it is; that’s what has been exciting for me, how completely different it is here from what I’m used to.”

“Your dahlia picture is very different from the others,” said Marcus, and Abby was forced to look at him. “Much more precise.”

“Er, yes. I’m not normally attracted to symmetry and order in my subjects, but this one caught my eye. There’s something appealing about how it presents itself to the world, how proud it is, how bold, and yet it is delicate, and vulnerable.”

She saw Marcus swallow hard before he thanked her. She didn’t know why her words had come out the way they did, just that it was the truth, and she didn’t feel like lying about something that was important to her.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done any portraits, Abby,” said Jaha. “I would have liked to see that variety in your display.”

“You are welcome to sit for me, Thelonious, if you wish, and then I can remedy that for next year’s exhibition.”

Jaha nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you.” The judges left, Marcus nodding and smiling at her in a formal way as though they had met for the first time. Abby breathed out, smiled at her neighbouring exhibitor who had been through the same thing. Despite what she’d said to Jaha she didn’t think she would put herself through this next year, if she was still in Arkchester then. Her legs were aching from standing for so long, and there was still some time to go before the judges’ decision was announced, so she sat on the dusty floor, ignoring the glare of Diana Sydney who clearly thought Abby could do no right. She rested her back against the wall and drifted into a nice dream where she and Marcus were in the cave again, making love for hours. “I’m lost in you,” he said over and over as he took her against the wall and on the bench, and on the cold stone floor, never fading, never tiring.

“Marcus!” she moaned.

“Abby.” Wait. That wasn’t Marcus’s voice. She opened her eyes to see Mary Murphy looking down at her, shaking Abby’s arm.

“What?” she said, confused.

“The judges have made their decision. You were asleep.”

“Oh. God, sorry.” Abby sat up straight and looked around. The public had been let back into the room and it was thronged with people. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. More witnesses to her slumped on the floor having an erotic dream about Councillor Kane, but also more noise and bustle to hopefully cover the fact that she was asleep on the floor. She opted for the latter option as her truth, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to get up and face the crowds. She was hot enough as it was, and wet, her knickers feeling damp as she followed Mary to the front of the room where her fellow artists were gathered. What a time to have a dream like that! She only had herself to blame, teasing Marcus the way she had earlier. She looked at him, standing tall at the end of the line of judges. He was staring straight ahead, nose in the air, as though none of this had anything to do with him and he was waiting for it to be over. She really ought to school him in how to seem friendlier. Jaha stepped forward.

“I want to thank everyone for attending today. Ticket sales and your generosity have meant we’ve raised £10,000 for the Eden Valley Hospice here in Lancaster. Thank you for that.”

There was a round of applause, which Abby joined in.

“I also want to thank the artists for so generously exhibiting their work and submitting themselves to our scrutiny.”

More applause. Marcus glanced at Abby and half-smiled, and she returned the look.

“The competition was very high quality this year,” continued Jaha, “and it’s a shame there can only be one winner, but I am pleased to announce that the William Woodhouse Award for 2018 goes to Mrs Abby Griffin. Congratulations, Abby.”

Abby was surprised to hear her name called, not because she didn’t think she was good enough to win, but she’d suspected that local loyalties might have won the day, despite Marcus being on the judging panel.

“Come up here, Abby.” Jaha beckoned to her, and Abby headed towards him to another round of applause. Jaha presented her with a glass statue shaped like an easel. “Well deserved,” he said, shaking her hand, and Abby smiled.

“Thank you so much.”

Abby went down the line shaking hands with the judges until she came to Marcus who was smiling broadly. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Well done,” he said, and Abby grew warm again at the contact, and the lingering memory of her dream. She disappeared back into the crowd as soon as she could.

“There will now be a champagne reception,” said Jaha. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Abby returned to her display, started to remove her name plates from the walls, take down her paintings, to distract herself from thoughts of Marcus and the cave. Mary Murphy came and stood watching her.

“Congratulations, love.”

“Thank you so much, Mary.”

“I really admire your talent. I bet you’ve had a lot of interest in your work haven’t you?”

“Some, yes. It’s been an enjoyable day. What about you?”

“Oh, no one’s interested in my dabblings in that way. I’m not in your league.”

“I love your paintings,” replied Abby.

“I know you do, love. Listen. I didn’t want to say anything before, in front of Diana, but I’m grateful to you for taking on my boy. I know he’s a handful.”

“I can’t deny that, but he’s fun. He livens up the sessions. I really like him.”

“You’re very kind, Abby. Very kind.” Mary turned away, leaving Abby surprised at the level of emotion the woman had shown. She didn’t have time to ponder it because Marcus was making his way towards her, glasses of champagne in hand. Abby smiled as he approached, her pulse picking up, parts of her starting to throb again.

“Congratulations again,” said Marcus, handing her a glass and then clinking his against it.

“Thank you.”

“There was no need for a casting vote, in case you were wondering. A unanimous decision.”

“That’s nice,” said Abby. She didn’t care about the voting, or the prize, or any of it. All she could think about was Marcus’s mouth on hers, his body pressed against her, his hands caressing her into life. She drained her glass in one, put it on the table. “Follow me,” she said, and didn’t wait to see if he was doing as he was told.

She made her way through the crowd, nodding in reply to greetings and compliments, and headed for the back door, pushing it open until she was standing in the cold air, the night black as pitch, no moon, a few stars. Marcus bumped up behind her and Abby scanned the car park in front of her before taking his hand and leading him through the maze of parked cars to the far corner where hers was sitting, the windows frosted up. She’d been annoyed that this far-flung space was the only one available to her when she’d arrived, but now it seemed fortuitous, because they would be hidden from the view of all but the nearest cars.

“Abby, what are we doing?” said Marcus as she dragged him round to the back of her car and popped the boot.

“You’re going to fuck me like you promised,” she said, leaning into the back of the car, feeling the space for any surprise objects.

“In the back of your car? I thought you were joking.” Marcus sounded sceptical which Abby had anticipated.

“I wasn’t joking, and it’s okay. I put blankets down to protect my paintings. They’re clean. The car is clean.”

She stood up and pulled him towards her before he had a chance to object and kissed him, her hands running all over his body, pressing him tight to her.

“Okay. Fuck! Yes okay,” he breathed when she finally let him go.

They scrambled into the back of the car and Abby pulled the boot shut. It was so dark she could hardly see Marcus. He was squashed up against her and they were both wriggling as they tried to pull down their pants. Abby’s boots were in the way and she had to contort herself to reach down and force them off. After that her jeans and knickers came off easily and she helped Marcus push his pants off. His cock sprang free and she stroked it.

“Is there room for you on top?” he groaned.

Abby tried to straddle him but she hit her head on the roof of the car “No,” she replied.

“Sideways,” Marcus said, and Abby manoeuvred so she was next to him and he pulled her leg over his hip and slid inside her. They both groaned.

“God, I’ve been aching for this,” said Marcus as he thrust into her.

“I know, I know.” Abby gripped his arse, forced him deeper. They fucked each other hard, the car rocking and squeaking. Abby prayed the handbrake would hold, hoped no one would leave the reception early and wonder why her car was alive with movement.

“The things you get me to do. I never thought…” Marcus whispered.

“I’m good for you remember.”

“Yes you are, you are.” Marcus groaned loudly and Abby reached down and stroked her clit because she thought he was going to come soon, and he did a moment later, his hands on her face, his lips kissing every inch of her. He kept thrusting, giving her time to come to her own climax.

They lay in each other’s arms, and Abby looked out of the car window. She couldn’t see much. The heat from their passion had misted up the glass and when she wiped it away with her fingers the frost patterns obscured her view.

“I thought I was going to explode in there today,” said Marcus. “After what you said. It was absolute torture.”

“I know. I fell asleep on the floor waiting for the judging and dreamed about you. It was a hot dream, really hot.”

Marcus’s eyes grew wide as he looked at her. “How hot?”

She put his hand between her legs, where she was sticky and wet from their activities. “I’ve been like this all afternoon.”

Marcus groaned, stroked her gently with his fingers. “Speaking of. You know your cave painting?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but the more I looked at it the more it looked like an angry vagina.”

Abby choked on a breath and cough-laughed. “A vagina! An angry vagina. Fuck!” She brought the painting into her mind. “Yes. I can see that. No wonder you didn’t want to get swallowed up by it.”

“Oh, quite the contrary,” said Marcus. “There’s no better way to die.”

Abby laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe again and Marcus’s shoulders were heaving. She imagined the car rocking with their laughter like in a cartoon.   

“Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, God. How many other people thought that about it?”

“I’m sure no one. They don’t have the associations with it that I do.”

“An angry vagina,” Abby repeated, laughing softly.

“You’re not offended?” Marcus said kissing her nose.

“Oh, no. All art is open to interpretation anyway. Once it’s in front of the viewer I have no control over their responses and nor would I want to have.”

“I love it more now that I think of it as a vagina,” said Marcus, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Then it can be the first painting I put up in your home. You said I could and now that’s what you’re going to get.”

“That makes me very happy.” Marcus kissed her again, and he was still stroking her sex, hadn’t stopped since she’d placed his fingers there, and Abby’s breathing grew heavy as the heat built again and a gentle wave rippled through her.

“I was really proud of you in there,” whispered Marcus, as Abby curled into him. She curled even tighter.

“Thank you.”

They stayed like that for a minute but then the cold started to creep into her bones as they lost the heat they’d built up. “We should get back to the reception,” Abby said.

“We should. How do you open the boot from the inside?”

“Oh, I don’t know. With the key I guess.” Abby felt around for her pants, checked in the pockets but there was no key. “I can’t find the key.”

“What? You must have it; you got us in here.”

“I know, but it’s not in my pocket and I can’t see a thing in here. You’ll have to crawl into the front seat and open the door then come around to the back and pop the button.”

“Me? Why do I have to crawl over there? You’re much smaller.”

“You’ve got longer arms and legs than me. It will be easier for you.”

Marcus tutted as he climbed over Abby, his cock dangling tantalisingly close to her face, before he crashed head first into the front passenger seat with a cry. “Fuck! That hurt!”

“You’re nearly there,” said Abby lamely.

Marcus’s legs followed the rest of his body and a cold blast of air entered as he opened the door and ran half-naked round to the rear of the car. The boot popped open and a light came on. He grabbed his shorts and trousers and pulled them on before sitting on the edge of the car to fasten up his shoes. Abby did the same, finding her boots and putting them on before getting out of the car and feeling around for the key. It had fallen into a gap above the wheel arch and she held it up to Marcus triumphantly. He rolled his eyes, then rubbed his chin and his elbow.

“Does it hurt a lot?” said Abby, feeling guilty that she’d made him climb over when in truth it probably would have been easier for her, but there was no way she was going out into the cold naked.

“It’s mostly my pride,” he said, and then he straightened up and smoothed himself down. “God knows what we look like.”

“There are toilets on the other side of the back door. We can go in there first before we head back to the reception.”

Abby opened the door and of course Jaha was passing as she and Marcus entered the warmth of the museum. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Just packing some of my equipment,” said Abby, and then she went into the bathroom to check herself out. She didn’t look too bad. Her hair was messy and she ran her fingers through it before exiting the bathroom and waiting for Marcus. He came out of the men’s room a moment later, still rubbing his chin. He took his hand away and Abby saw a large bruise already starting to develop.

“Oops,” she said.

“It was worth it,” replied Marcus, and he smirked as he went ahead of her, joining Councillors Muir and Fuji in the corner of the room. Abby headed to the refreshments table, picked up a glass of orange juice. She didn’t know if Marcus was going to stay at her place tonight or she was going to his, but either way she had to drive her paintings home, so no more champagne for her.

When the reception was over, Marcus helped Abby load her Volvo with her paintings and she drove home with him following her in his Aston Martin. He carried her paintings in and Abby stacked them in the kitchen until she had time to return them to her studio. She put the one of the cave to one side.

“Are you going to stay the rest of the weekend with me?” said Marcus as Abby put her award on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

“Yes, that would be great. I just want to check if Raven has sent me an email and pack a bag and then I’m good to go.” She switched on the laptop and opened the email programme. Marcus stood behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders.

There was an email from Raven, and Abby opened it without thinking, started reading.

_Abby you wicked girl! You’ve got a man!! He sounds intriguing and so hot! Yes send me that photo asap – I want to see the guy who’s made you happy at last. He better be good enough for you._

Abby grew hot all over and closed the email quickly, hoping Marcus hadn’t read it, but his hands had stilled on her shoulders and were gripping her instead.

“You didn’t see that,” she said as she got up from her chair. She looked at him, thinking he would be smirking at her, but he wasn’t. He didn’t speak, just took her face in his hands and kissed her.

“See what?” he said, when he released her from his embrace.

“I’m going to pack a bag,” said Abby and she disappeared up the stairs. There was no reason to be embarrassed but she was. She felt like she’d let something slip to him that she wasn’t ready for him to know, but then how terrible was it that he should know he makes her happy? He must know that anyway, but then maybe he didn’t, because his ex-wife had belittled him and made him feel worthless and what if he didn’t know? What if he wondered all the time how she truly felt, whether he was just a plaything to her or something else. Oh, God. She needed to try and open up more with him, as hard as it was to make herself vulnerable. He was vulnerable too. They both had wounds.

She packed what she needed into her overnight bag and went downstairs. Marcus was looking at her award, running his thumb across the name plaque. Abby put her bag on the sofa and crossed to him. He turned as she approached.

“You do make me happy,” she said.

He looked at her with those dark eyes that hid so much except when it came to her, ran his thumb across her cheek. “You make me happy too.”

Abby nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” she said before either of them said anything else, or the emotion that was building inside her spilled over into tell-tale tears again.

They picked up a pizza on their way to Marcus’s house, and he warmed it in the oven while Abby unpacked her things in his room, putting her clothes in her drawer, adding more toiletries to her bathroom shelf. She showered and changed into her pjs, not the baggy ones Marcus had worn; these had grey bottoms and a pale blue top that said ‘Born to be Wild’. When she returned to his bedroom Marcus was inside, stripping off his shirt and tie.

“Very nice,” he said when he saw her. He hung his trousers in the wardrobe, put his tie on the rack. He pulled on a black t-shirt and black cotton pants that hung low on his slim hips.

“Pizza’s probably ready,” said Marcus, and Abby followed him into the kitchen. They sat at the island to eat. Marcus poured himself a cold beer and Abby a glass of wine.

“Are we putting the cave painting up tomorrow then?” she said, looking at the picture which was leaning against the back of Marcus’s sofa.

“Definitely. I think it needs to go above the fireplace. Have pride of place.”

“You sure you want to have something that looks like an angry vagina staring at you every day?”

“It’s beautiful, and besides, if nothing else it will make me smile every day and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re getting soft.”

Marcus didn’t answer, just smiled and ate another slice of pizza. Abby ate a slice as well then decided she’d ask him something that had been on her mind all day, in the spirit of not jumping to conclusions, which of course she had, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Marcus paused as he was about to take a bite from his slice, and turned to look at her. “Why do people always say that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why say ‘can I ask you something’? What’s the other person supposed to say? No? No, you can never ask me anything ever?”

Abby laughed although she wasn’t sure if he was annoyed with what she’d said. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“What you mean is, you’re going to ask me something personal and you’re giving me fair warning because I might not like the question or giving the answer.”

“Erm, well yes, I suppose that’s true.” She coughed to clear her throat. “Are you okay if I ask you something personal?”

“Just ask it,” said Marcus with a roll of his eyes.

“Have you ever dated Diana Sydney?”

“Where has that question come from?”

“Just answer it,” said Abby imitating his eye roll. Marcus smiled.

“Briefly.”

“Oh. What was that like?”

“It was a while ago. You remember I said I’d had a lucky escape from some of the women I dated? Well, she was one of them.”

“Not a good experience?”

Marcus grimaced and shook his head. “Big mistake.”

Abby didn’t want to know the answer to her next question but at the same time she did, even if it would be painful. How to phrase it? Best just to come out with it.

“Did you sleep with her?”

Marcus gave her an amused look. “Would it bother you if I had?”

“No,” replied Abby. “Well, maybe. Did you?”

“Nearly. We’d been out a couple of times, just for drinks, once with other people. I took her out for a meal and it was excruciating. She was very self-absorbed, and I got bored and drank too much. We ended up at her house somehow, I don’t remember all that much. She tried to seduce me but my heart wasn’t in it, never mind other more crucial parts of me, and in the end she stuck me in a taxi and that was it.”

“I bet she wasn’t happy that you’d rejected her.”

“She tried to tempt me a few more times but it wasn’t for me. Far too needy for my liking.”

Abby smiled. She could imagine Marcus getting frustrated with someone like Diana. “How come you ended up sitting for your portrait then?”

Marcus frowned. “My portrait?”

“Yes. The one in her exhibition.”

“There wasn’t a painting of me in her exhibition.”

“There was! She showed it to me. It was the one next to Mr Hussain. The dark-haired man looking strangely at the viewer.”

“That was me? No. She never said anything.”

“But you sat for her.”

“I’ve never sat for her! I’ve been out with her three times and one of those I was pissed as a fart. I’ve never posed for anyone except you.”

Abby was confused. She thought back over her conversation with Diana, tried to see if she’d misunderstood, but she knew she hadn’t.

“She said you were an impatient subject, that I would understand that.”

“I don’t know why but she’s lying, Abby.”

“She’s playing games with me, trying to push my buttons.” Abby was so annoyed she could kill Diana. She was done being polite with her.

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know; she’s been like that since I arrived, but it’s got worse since the rumours first started about me and you.”

Marcus stroked Abby’s hand where it rested on the countertop. “Maybe she’s jealous.”

“You think she still wants you?”

“I can’t imagine why; I was pretty rude to her, but it would make sense.”

“I suppose some people might consider you a catch,” said Abby with a smirk.

“Well certainly none of the women I dated after Caroline did. You’re the only one who’s stuck with me.”

“I’m a sucker for men who line their briefcases up neatly on my table,” said Abby, and Marcus laughed, pinched her arm playfully.

“Have there been a lot of men, while we’re asking personal questions?” said Marcus with a raised eyebrow.

“Define a lot,” replied Abby with a straight face, and Marcus’s eyes grew wide.

“Well, erm,” he stuttered.

“Stop panicking. There haven’t been many. My husband was my first. We were very young when we started dating and I was faithful throughout our twenty-year marriage, unlike him.” Abby took a deep breath and Marcus shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. After he left I was hurt and angry and I guess I wanted some freedom, or I don’t know what I wanted, only what I didn’t want which was another relationship. I had a couple of encounters, well three, just for sex, and one of them I can’t remember because I was drunk. And then I met you.”

“And you ended up in a relationship.”

“You can’t outrun a rising tide,” said Abby with a grin.

“Have I overwhelmed you?” Marcus said, looking at her intently.

Abby didn’t reply straight away; it wasn’t an easy question to answer. “No. Well, yes. But not you. Not just you. I took myself by surprise.” She pushed away her empty plate. “So, was Caroline your first girlfriend?” she said to save herself from any deeper admissions.

“No. I had a few before her but nothing special. She was the first woman I fell in love with. When I found out she’d been cheating I was devastated but I still didn’t want her to leave. I thought it was me, because I worked too hard, I wasn’t there for her. I told her I would change but she said I bored her, I was useless as a husband, couldn’t satisfy her. There was nothing I could do.”

Abby put her hand on his. “She sounds like a bitch if you don’t mind me saying.”

Marcus shrugged. “If you’d said that a few years ago I would have said no, that it was me who changed her, that she was a nice person when I met her, but now that I can look back with a clearer head I can see that she was never that nice. She was always ambitious, always pushing. I thought it was to support me, like I supported her, but it was to get the lifestyle she wanted. I was a better prospect than Jaha when I had my success with the software program, and the new guy she got was a better prospect than me because he was some kind of billionaire entrepreneur or whatever I don’t even know.”

Abby was listening carefully to Marcus’s words as he opened up to her. He had success with a software programme? Was that how he made his money? She wanted to ask him, but not just yet. He needed comfort first, reassurance. “I’m sorry that she turned out to be like that. You know it wasn’t your fault, though, don’t you? You would never have been able to satisfy her forever.”

Marcus shook his head. “I could have changed, I would have worked harder. I would have done anything for her. It was me, I was too much for her, especially with, you know, my disorder.”

“Did you have the disorder when you met her?”

“I’ve had it most of my life to some degree. I managed it though, for years, then it got worse, started to take over my life.”

“Because of her.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Abby resisted the urge to shake him. How could he still feel responsible after all these years and when he’d just admitted she only wanted him until something better came along? It was her, not him. “Marcus, did she even give you a chance to change things? Did she want to change?”

“I knew something was wrong for a long time. I didn’t want to come home some nights because it was just, well it wasn’t very pleasant. I buried my head in the sand, in work. I didn’t give her a chance to talk to me.”

“Bullshit!” The word came out more strongly than Abby intended, but she didn’t regret it. She was angrier than she’d been in a long time. “She obviously had enough time to berate you and abuse you. Goddammit, Marcus, you have to stop blaming yourself. Yes, you could have been more open with her, rather than hiding at work, and I’m sure you did plenty of things to annoy her because that’s what living with someone does, you get on each other’s nerves from time to time, but she could have talked to you properly. You already said it, you were a means to an end, like I was with my husband. It’s their faults, not ours. All we did was love them.”

Somehow this had ended up about herself as well, which shouldn’t be surprising because they were the same really, they’d both done nothing but support their partners, and they’d both been betrayed. The difference was it hadn’t taken Abby long to lay the blame directly where it belonged, whereas Marcus had taken it all upon himself.

“We deluded ourselves,” said Marcus, his shoulders drooping.

“No. We had faith in our relationships, and we were trusting. Those are beautiful things and if there’s one thing I’m mad at both our spouses for it’s for destroying our hope in those emotions.”

“It’s not completely destroyed, though, is it? I still have hope.” Marcus cupped Abby’s face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone.

Abby put her hand on his, brought it to her lips and kissed his palm. “I’m trying.” She put his hand on the countertop, kept hers resting on it. “So what’s this software business then?”

“What’s that?” said Marcus.

“You said Caroline left Jaha for you because you had success with a software program.”

“Oh, right yes. Have I not told you about that already?”

Abby shook her head.

“It was something I developed while at university. A programming solution.”

“I didn’t know you were into computers to that extent.”

“It was the early days of computer engineering and the internet. Jaha was really into it and we had a computer club at university which I joined and I picked it up pretty quickly. There was a problem in software engineering at the time, too boring for me to describe it to you, but I found a possible solution through structured programming that was bought by a company that later became a big internet company. I got a lump sum and residuals, so I was pretty wealthy when I left uni and I got wealthier.”

“Wow! I had no idea.”

“How did you think I afforded all this on a prison governor’s salary? I presumed you knew.”

“I didn’t know, although I did wonder.”

“You should have asked. It’s not a secret.”

“I know, I wanted to, but how do you ask a man you’re dating how he got rich? It’s not the done thing, as you would say.”

Marcus laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

Abby gave him a gentle dig in the ribs. “We were supposed to be casual, and then I told you about my situation, and I didn’t want you to think I was a gold digger or something.”

“Abby, that is the last thing I would ever think about you. I’m not going to say you can trust me because we both know words are empty, but I hope to show you that you can, given time.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” said Abby, wiping away a small tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye.

“And we can’t have that.”

“No.”

“We could watch a sad film and then you can cry and it will be perfectly acceptable.”

“You hate those kinds of films.”

“I’m willing to make a sacrifice for you.”

“Do you own anything like that?”

“No, but that’s what the internet is for. I can get Amazon Prime on my TV.”

“You claim not to watch TV yet you have Amazon Prime?”

“For the free deliveries.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Marcus smirked. “Yes. Go and choose something while I tidy up.”

Abby switched on the TV and flicked through the movies. She tried to pick one that Marcus would enjoy as well. “What about An Affair to Remember?” she shouted to him. “I know it’s not very appropriate given the conversation we’ve just had, but I do love it.”

Marcus approached with wine and a bowl of assorted nuts. “If we cast ourselves as Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr then it’s fine.”

He sat close to her on the sofa, put his arm around her and pulled her to him. Abby curled up her legs and leaned into him. She pressed play and they settled down to watch the film.

“You’re much more beautiful than Deborah Kerr,” said Marcus when the film ended.

“I can’t sing like her, though,” replied Abby as she wiped away her tears.

“You can’t sing?”

“Not for toffee.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed. Do you sing?”

“Only in the shower.”

“Then I’ll have to listen out for that.”

“Are you ready for bed?” said Marcus as he got up and moved into the kitchen to wash up their glasses.

Abby watched him as he was bent over the sink, his brow furrowed as he scrubbed at the glasses, rinsing them then holding them up to the light to check they were clean. Her heart thumped against her chest and a pulse of something like electricity flowed through her nerves. “I thought you’d never ask!” she said when she found her voice.

Marcus took her hand and led Abby up the stairs and into the bedroom, and so ended the day when she could no longer deny she’d fallen in love with him, deeply, madly in love with this complicated, fascinating, loving man. She had no choice but to have faith in him, to trust him, because he had her heart now and it was too late to try and take it back. Way too late.


	14. Strike a Pose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane and Abby have some fun, and there's another letter

Sunday morning and Abby woke alone again. Didn’t Marcus ever sleep? When she went downstairs he wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. She checked his study but he wasn’t there, nor in the bathroom or the other downstairs room which turned out to be a spare bedroom. She returned to the living room and looked out of the window but there was no sign of him. His car was still on the drive so wherever he was he hadn’t gone far. It was strange to be alone in someone else’s house. She made a cup of tea; she hadn’t yet persuaded him to stock coffee for her, but the tea was growing on her. It didn’t provide the same caffeine hit as her morning coffee but maybe that was a good thing.

Abby had finished her tea by the time Marcus returned. She saw him walk past the window all bundled up in his black hooded jacket with a grey scarf covering his face. His camera bumped against his chest as he walked towards the door. A blast of cold air followed him into the room.

“It’s icy out there!” he said as he took off his jacket and scarf.

“You’ve been out taking pictures?”

“Yes, it was a beautiful sunrise. I went up on the moor.”

“You should have woken me.”

“You looked far too peaceful.” He came over to Abby and gave her a kiss, his nose and lips cold where they touched hers.

“Would you like some tea?”

Marcus nodded and sat at the table, putting his camera in front of him. Abby made him some tea, and toast for them both.

“I saw a stoat chasing a rabbit,” said Marcus as he ate his toast. “I managed to get a reasonable photo I think.” He nodded to his camera and Abby turned it on and scrolled through the pictures until she found it.

“Wow, that’s a great shot. Did the rabbit get away?”

“I don’t know. They disappeared over the hill and I didn’t see them again.”

“You’re so good with this camera,” said Abby as she looked at his other shots. “You have a great eye.”

“I do,” Marcus replied, smirking. He held out his hand for the camera and Abby passed it to him. She had a feeling what he would do next and he did. He pointed it at her and she pulled a face when he clicked the shutter. “Hey!” he said. “You can do better than that.”

“You want me to strike a pose?” Abby laughed.

“Yes, why not?”

“Because I feel stupid that’s why not.”

“I did it for you.”

Abby let out a fake sigh. “I wondered when that would come back to bite me.”

Marcus shrugged, raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Abby, just a smile.”

She smiled at him and he took some pictures and persuaded her into various poses and she started to enjoy herself. They moved around the downstairs rooms, fooling around, posing, laughing.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marcus said as he looked through his shots. “Look at you.” He showed one of the photos to Abby who had to admit he’d captured her face well, though she looked ridiculous in her Born to be Wild pyjamas.

“I wish I was wearing something else, something sexier than these pyjamas.”

“Take them off,” said Marcus, not looking at her.

“What?”

“Take them off. Take off your pyjamas.”

“You want me naked?” His comment took Abby by surprise, and then she remembered the flirty look in his eye when he’d first asked her to pose. She should have known this was inevitable.

“There’s nothing sexier than that,” Marcus said, looking up at her.

“Oh, I don’t know, Marcus.”

“As I said before, I did it for you.”

“If you play that card now you can’t play it again. That hand is dealt.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“I bet you are.” She sighed, trying to decide if she wanted to do this. It was exciting, the thought of posing for him like this, having him look at her critically through the lens of his camera.

“They’ll be tasteful pictures, I promise.”

“And they’re just for us?”

“Of course they’re just for us. Put a shirt on first if it makes you more comfortable and we’ll start from there.”

“Okay.” Abby went upstairs and changed out of her pyjamas into the white cotton top she’d been wearing the day before. She put on a lacier pair of knickers and sat on the bed for a moment thinking this through. She had no problem with posing naked for him; there wasn’t an inch of her he hadn’t seen over the last few months. It was only the camera that was an issue, making a permanent record of the moment, which it was exciting to have, and she was interested to see how he would make her look. It came down to whether she trusted him to have intimate pictures of her, and she couldn’t see a reason why he would betray her; after all she had the naked portrait of him, and he’d trusted her not to show it to everyone at the museum exhibition.

She went downstairs to find Marcus standing in only his t-shirt and shorts. “In solidarity,” he said, and Abby laughed.

“Are you going to get naked when I do as well?”

“I can if you want.”

“Then we will never get these photos finished.”

Marcus shrugged and smiled. “I’m okay with that too.” He took a few shots while she was smiling at him. “Undo the buttons on your shirt.”

Abby did as he asked while Marcus clicked the camera. “Pull the shirt down a little,” he said, and when she didn’t do it the way he wanted it he came across to adjust it, pulling one of her sleeves off her shoulder, exposing her breast, his fingers grazing her skin as he fiddled, and Abby broke out in goosebumps at his touch, her nipple hardening. Marcus rubbed this thumb over it and Abby groaned.

“Don’t do that, not yet. We’ll never finish.”

“This is going to be difficult,” he said.

“You can have a reward at the end.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He clicked the camera as she slowly removed the shirt until she was standing in just her knickers. “Are you going to take those off?” he said.

Abby held his gaze as she slipped the underwear down her legs and stepped out of them. Marcus watched her, shifting uncomfortably as his cock swelled and pushed against his underpants. “Maybe you should take yours off,” Abby said, looking down at his bulge.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” His hand strayed to his pants, adjusting them.

Abby smiled. “Where do you want me?”

“Against the window maybe, silhouetted like you did to me.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I put my shoes on? I feel kind of short without them.” She slipped into her high heels without waiting for Marcus’s answer, having decided that the most fun she could have with this photography session was to wind him up to a fever pitch. She heard him groan as she walked across to the window. “From the front or from behind?” she said.

“Fuck,” she heard him mutter. “Erm, look out of the window,” he said in a louder voice.

Abby stared out of the window across the moorland to the sea while Marcus took photos and told her what pose to make. It was a beautiful late October day, with a pale blue sky and the purple heather blooming in the sunshine. He’d certainly picked an amazing place to live his solitary life, not that it was quite so solitary now that Abby was here so often. She’d tried to keep herself as neat and minimalist as possible, her clothes tidied away, her bathroom… well that was a mess, but he didn’t have to go in there. But inevitably traces of her were accumulating around his house. Her coat on his peg, her shoes and boots on the rack in the drying room, her handbag on the floor next to the coffee table, her hairs all over everywhere. She’d seen him picking them off the sofa when he thought she wasn’t looking. It made her feel guilty but also want to laugh he was so particular about it. There was nothing she could do about her hair, so she’d decided not to worry about it. If she was here for long periods of time she’d vacuum or brush or whatever he wanted, if he would let her.

“Abby?”

Marcus’s voice broke into her reverie. She turned to look at him. “Hmmm?”

“Where were you?”

“Oh, just out on the hills, admiring the view.”

“I’m admiring the view as well,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Abby rolled her eyes. She stretched, put her arms in the air, let her body go tight, sucked her stomach in, pushed her chest out, and fake-yawned.

Marcus drew a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Are you tired? Why don’t you sit down?” He indicated the chair near the side window.

“You want me to put my naked butt on your chair?”

“Erm, yes, yes, hang on.” Marcus folded the blanket up and placed it on the seat and Abby sat down.

“How do you want me?”

“Just relax, lean back, rest your head.”

Abby did as he asked, closing her eyes. It was relaxing, and peaceful, the only sounds Marcus’s breathing and the click of his camera.

“Imagine you’re all alone,” Marcus said, “and you’re thinking about me, thinking about one of our times together.”

“Okay,” said Abby, wondering where he was going with this.

“What’s your favourite time?”

Abby thought for a moment, there’d been so many. “The first time. The first time you touched me.”

“The first time?” Marcus murmured.

“Yes. You asked if it was okay and then you slid your fingers over me and oh, it felt amazing, I wanted it so badly.” Abby was getting more and more turned on as she spoke, remembering that time. She’d almost forgotten where she was now, what she was supposed to be doing.

“Touch yourself,” whispered Marcus.

“What?” She opened her eyes, looked at him.

“Touch yourself like I touched you.”

“While you photograph me?” Marcus nodded. Abby took a deep breath. “I thought we were being tasteful.”

“We are. It will be. Trust me.”

“No close-ups?”

Marcus shook his head. “Only we will know it’s you, I promise. Close your eyes, think back to that time.”

Abby spread her legs enough to get her hand between them, caressed herself, running her fingers through her wetness.

“I wanted you so badly too,” said Marcus in a soft voice. “All that night I just wanted to be alone with you, and then I found you. I don’t know how I stayed in control as long as I did. I was praying you would say yes, and when you did, and I found out how wet you were for me, God, it was so hot. So hot.”

Abby circled her sex as he spoke, increasing the pressure slowly.

“You were so responsive, moaning, pushing yourself towards me, and you held my gaze the whole time, never flinched. I knew we would be great together,” Marcus continued.

Abby could take it no longer. Her fingers weren’t enough, she needed more. “I want you. I want your mouth. Please, Marcus.” She heard the clunk of the camera as he set it down on the wood, the creak of the floorboards as he knelt in front of her, felt the warmth of his fingers as he spread her legs wider, and then he was nosing her lips apart and his tongue was on her, so hot, so wet. She cried out, and he put his thumbs on her lips, spread them wider so he could get at the heart of her. He sucked at her, licked her, stabbed his tongue into her and Abby squirmed with pleasure. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she cried and he increased the pressure as he circled her clit until her hips were lifting off the chair as she came.

Marcus sat back on his heels and looked up at Abby. “Wow,” he said with a grin.

“Yes, wow.” She breathed out, trying to calm down. “I was supposed to be teasing you, not the other way around.”

“Oh were you!”

“Yes. Hence these.” She waved her high heels at him. “Guess it’s your turn in the chair.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Swap places.”

Marcus pulled off his t-shirt and underpants and sat in the chair. Abby straddled him, sinking down onto his cock in one go. They both let out a sigh. It was always so deep like this, so satisfying. She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue chasing his, her hands on the back of his head, and then she rocked, drawing moan after moan from Marcus until his grip on her ass tightened, and he drew in a sharp breath before emptying inside her with a long groan.

Marcus buried his face in her neck, kissed her, before cupping her face with his hands, kissing her nose and her lips and her cheeks. “What I feel for you…,” he whispered.

Abby covered his mouth with hers, kissed him. “Shush,” she said. “I know, I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, but don’t say it. Not yet.”

“One day?”

“Yes, one day.” Abby stood up, held out her hand to Marcus to help him out of the chair. “Did you get some good photos?”

“I hope so. I haven’t looked yet.”

“I suppose you’re going to disappear into your study now to look at them?”

“No. I can do that next week.”

“It’s okay. Go and play while I grab a shower and maybe I’ll make something nice for lunch.”

“Are you ordering Chinese again? They won’t deliver out here you know.”

“I can cook actual food, when I have the time. Go. Go and clean up and play with your photostore whatever it is. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Marcus kissed her again and disappeared down the hall and Abby went upstairs. She stood in the shower a long time, thinking about what they’d both nearly admitted to each other. Marcus would have said it if she hadn’t stopped him. He wanted her to know how he felt, that he loved her. Abby felt the same. There was nothing she wanted more than to tell him that he’d captured her heart and soul, but she wasn’t ready. Nearly, but not quite. It still seemed too soon, even after what, four months of dating? But it wasn’t four months of properly dating, it felt more like days, weeks at the most. So what, though? If you feel it, you feel it. Why was this so hard for her when they were clearly so great together like he said? But she knew why. Him. He who will not be named. Devastating her, scattering her into thousands of pieces, and she could never put herself back together in quite the same way although she’d done a pretty good job. There were still pieces that didn’t fit how they used to.

There’s no rush, she told herself as she dressed. Take it easy, take it slowly, say it when it feels right. She went downstairs, busied herself in the kitchen making a slow-roasted beef with roasted vegetables. She even tried making Yorkshire Puddings to a recipe she found in one of Marcus’s cookbooks. They didn’t rise as she expected them to do, and were gooey in the middle, but Marcus ate everything and didn’t mention their pale colour, sogginess or pancake-shape. If that wasn’t a reason to love him then Abby didn’t know what was.

They went for a walk in the afternoon and spent another night together before Marcus dropped Abby at home on his way to work Monday morning. It had been a good weekend, interesting, revealing, intimate. Abby already missed him, and she had to wait until Wednesday night to see him again.

In the end she didn’t have to wait that long because on Monday night she’d only just finished Skyping with Raven about the website when she got a text from Marcus saying he was going to Skype her. She answered his call with a smile, but it faltered when she saw his worried face.

“What’s wrong?” she said, her pulse starting to race.

“I’m sorry to call you like this,” Marcus said, and Abby started to feel sick.

“Just tell me.”

“I’ve had another letter.”

Fuck. She’d quietly hoped they’d stopped when there wasn’t one on Friday as usual. “Okay.”

“It’s not okay, Abby. It’s not okay at all.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the same kind of text but this time the photo is, well I’m emailing it to you.”

Abby opened her email account and an email from Marcus appeared in her inbox. There was no subject or text, just the attachment, which she opened, her fingers shaking as she double-clicked the mouse. It was a picture of her and Marcus outside her cottage, the same one they’d received last time only this version was very much unblurred. It showed them against her back door, Marcus with his trousers round his ankles, his arse thankfully covered by his shirt, and Abby with her leg wrapped around him, her skirt hitched up to her waist. Marcus was leaning towards her, and Abby’s head was flung back, her eyes closed. The picture was grainy because of the distance or the size of the lens or she didn’t know what, but its subject matter was clear to see. It was obviously her, and there was no mistaking Marcus’s dark hair, his slicked-back waves. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She switched tabs back to Skype and Marcus’s pained face filled the screen.

“I’m so sorry, Abby,” he said.

“What does the message say?” Abby said, her voice shaky. She hated that she sounded like this, that the letter writer, whom she didn’t even know, had reduced her to this level of fear.

“Pretty much the same, that this photo will be sent to our bosses if I don’t withdraw from the mayoral race.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Abby. “I thought it was someone joking around but this, this is real.”

“I know. I thought the same, well I worried about it, but I didn’t really believe it.”

“Did you have any luck with the postmark?”

“Only that the last two were posted in the centre of Lancaster, at a postbox outside the museum.”

“The museum? Where we were on Saturday?”

“It’s a busy area, Abby, right in the centre of town. I think that’s probably a coincidence.”

Abby wanted to cry, to scream, but she bit her lip, tried to keep calm. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Abby.” Marcus rubbed his chin, worried his bottom lip. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Do you want to?”

“I could. I can go to work more easily from yours in the morning.”

“Okay. Drive carefully.”

“I will. I’ll see you in an hour.”

While she waited for Marcus, Abby tidied up, washed the dishes, and cleaned the bathroom, more for something to take her mind off what Marcus had told her than to make sure it was okay for him to use. When she was finished she sat by the window, watching for car headlights and she was up and at the door before he’d reached the gate. She ushered him inside, locked the door, closed all the curtains. Marcus put his briefcase on the table, his overnight bag on the floor. He hung his coat on the peg and then he took her in his arms, held her tight.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“It’s happening to us, Marcus.”

“Yes, I know, but I guess it’s part of the territory when you get into politics. It shouldn’t involve you, though.”

“This is not part of the territory. This is beyond that. It’s evil. It’s wrong.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He sighed deeply.

“Do you want a drink? I have tea, decaff, or something stronger?”

“Tea is fine. I want to keep a clear head.”

Abby made them both a cup of tea and returned to the living room, sitting next to Marcus on the sofa.

“What are we going to do?” she said again.

“I’ll have to withdraw from the race.”

“No! You can’t do that.”

“What choice is there? I’m not letting this photo of you get out.”

“We’re not giving into this person. I absolutely refuse to do it.”

“Abby if they send it to the school….”

“If they send it to the school so what? I’m not having sex with a student. We’re adults. We’re in a consenting relationship and we were on private ground. It’s not illegal.”

“I know it’s not, but you could still get into trouble, and isn’t it embarrassing for you?”

“It’s not how I’d choose to be seen, but people are already imagining us doing something like this and worse probably.”

Marcus shook his head. “I can’t let this happen.”

“Are you embarrassed by it?”

“Yes! Is that wrong? I don’t want people seeing us in our private moments. Those are for us, they’re special.”

Abby wasn’t surprised at his reaction. He was such a private man, this must be mortifying for him. It was for her, but she was stubborn, and she’d decided she wasn’t letting this asshole letter writer get the better of her.

“It’s not wrong. I understand, I do, but I don’t want this person to win, Marcus. Why should they?”

He didn’t answer, so Abby pressed her case. “If you don’t withdraw from the race, then what’s the worst they can do? Publish the photo? It will be too late by then.”

“If they publish the photo before the election people might not vote for me.”

Abby had to laugh at his naivety. “How long have you been in politics? There’s a guy in the White House right now who’s done far, far worse than this and no one seems to give a damn. You’re going to look like a virile, sexy guy and your vote will go up, I guarantee it.”

“At your expense.”

Abby shrugged. “What’s one more scandal?”

“Don’t talk like that, Abby. You matter more to me than my reputation or being mayor.”

“Marcus, that’s really nice but this is something you’ve wanted for a long time and I don’t want to get in your way.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. You’re not giving up your dream for me. What other alternatives are there?”

Marcus shrugged. “Going to the police.”

“The police? Is that what you want to do?”

“Not really. Making it official is as good as advertising it to the world. There’ll be an investigation, people will be interviewed, the papers will hear about it.”

“Then we can’t do that. It seems to me we have two choices. We give in, or we call their bluff. Fight on.”

“It’s a risk, to call their bluff.” Marcus’s face was alive with his conflicting emotions. He rubbed his brow, shook his head.

“You give in to this demand, and then what? Is there another? Do they start to blackmail you? And if you withdraw from the race people will wonder why, and there’s no guarantee whoever is doing this will honour what they say. It’s going to get out one way or another, things like this always do.”

“So we ignore them?”

“Yes. Keep calm and carry on, isn’t that what you Brits say?”

Marcus laughed. “Blitz spirit.”

“If you say so.” Abby put her hand on Marcus’s arm. “We don’t give in. We’re in this together.”

“You’re amazing you know.”

“I’m just tired of being pushed around by other people with their own agendas. I’m in control of my own life, and so are you.”

Marcus nodded. “Are you in control enough to let me into your kitchen so I can make a sandwich or something? I haven’t eaten all day.”

“I made some soup earlier. Why don’t I warm that up for you?”

Marcus followed her into the kitchen and sat at the table while she heated the soup. “How was your day until I ruined it?” he said.

“I Skyped with Raven about my online gallery idea.”

“That’s great. What did she say?”

“I need to get my canvases professionally staged and photographed so they’ll look good for the site. She’s working on all the techy stuff I don’t understand.” She put a steaming bowl of soup in front of Marcus and sat down next to him.

“I can help you with that,” Marcus said as he blew on a spoonful of the liquid.

“You want to take the photographs?”

“Yes, of course, if you want me to.” He swallowed the soup. “Mmm, this is nice.”

“It’s just vegetables, some lentils.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Thanks.”

“We could hire a room at the town hall or the museum to hang the paintings. What would you need, a white wall?”

“Yes, that would show the paintings to the best effect.”

“I’ll look into getting a room.”

They chatted about her plans for the gallery while Marcus ate his dinner. It was nice to talk about something positive after their earlier discussion, but the letter writer was at the back of Abby’s mind, and it was the same for Marcus, she could tell from the way he stared into space when there was a lull in the conversation.

“Have you thought about who it could be?” she said when they were curled up together on the sofa.

“I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“And?”

“I have no idea. I’ve probably made a lot of enemies over the years, it’s inevitable when you work with criminals, and I’m not exactly Mr Popular in my private or public life, I know that.”

“If it’s about you.”

Marcus looked at her. “You mean if it’s about me and you?”

“Yes. Think about it, you were running for mayor long before I arrived on the scene, so why now?”

“Maybe they didn’t have anything to blackmail me with before.”

That was true, but Abby wasn’t convinced. There must be other ways someone could sabotage Marcus’s political career, and he had admitted to knowing where some bodies were buried. Did he have bodies of his own? It was inevitable in his line of work, surely?

“Jaha’s my favourite candidate,” she said. He is your political rival, and there was that business with Caroline, and I’m pretty sure he wanted to ask me out until he realised we were together.”

“But if he likes you why would he want to embarrass you?”

“Jealousy.”

“He’s always been jealous. When I created that software solution he tried to sue me saying he’d sparked the idea and deserved his share.”

Abby was surprised. Marcus hadn’t mentioned this when he’d told her about the program. “Really?”

“Yes. It wasn’t true. I mean, yes, there were conversations amongst all the computer club, but nothing he or anyone said specifically sparked my idea. It was all me.”

“Then why did he try to sue you?”

“Jealous, like I said. He was the one who was interested in computer engineering, was studying it, wanted a career in it. I was dabbling because I was bored, and I was the one who made a breakthrough and a load of money.”

“That must have really got his goat.”

“Yes, and then I got his girl.”

“And now you’ve got me. It’s him, Marcus. It has to be.”

Marcus shook his head. “I still can’t see it. It’s not his style. He prefers to beat me in the arena, prove himself in battle. This is too underhand.”

Abby wasn’t convinced at all, but then she didn’t know Jaha, had only met him a handful of times. “What about Diana? It’s exactly the kind of thing she would do.”

“That’s true, but it seems over the top, don’t you think? We only had three dates, and I was an arsehole.”

“She hates me, though.”

“She’s jealous of you because you’re gorgeous and successful and you have the hottest guy in Arkchester.” Marcus wiggled his eyebrows at Abby. “But enough to do this?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d care.”

“Your ex-husband?”

“Him? He couldn’t wait to get me out of his life. What about Caroline?”

“Same. I haven’t seen or heard from her since the divorce.”

“She might be one of those people who doesn’t want you but doesn’t want anyone else to have you either.”

“I’m not sure she cares enough for that.” Marcus stroked Abby’s shoulder, pressed a kiss to her head.

“That only leaves one person,” said Abby, looking up at Marcus. He looked at her in surprise.

“Who?”

“Mrs Pickford,” said Abby with a laugh. “She’s secretly madly in love with you and jealous of me.”

Marcus let out a big laugh. “Mrs Pickford.” He laughed again. “She is always in her garden when I come around.”

“She has your poster in her window.”

“Does she?”

“Oh, yeah. I bet she has all your merchandise, mugs, t-shirts. Do you do Kane for Mayor knickers?”

Marcus laughed again. “Kane for Mayor knickers. Imagine my face being there, next to, you know, women’s bits.”

“I don’t want to imagine that! There’s only one place your face belongs.”

“Your angry vagina,” said Marcus with a chuckle, and he ducked when Abby threw a cushion at him.

“Damn straight.”

“Maybe I ought to refamiliarize myself with the area. It’s been over twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not scared you’ll get swallowed up?” Abby took his hand and led him towards the stairs.

“I’m counting on it.”

Abby groaned and laughed. “How did our conversation descend to this level?”

“You started it.”

“True,” she said as she opened the door to her bedroom and pushed him inside. “I’ll let you finish it.”


	15. The Marcus Kane Appreciation Society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kane and Abby get a shock. Abby goes to dinner with Jackson while Kane is away.

On Wednesday Abby packed all her canvases into her Volvo and drove to the museum again where Marcus met her. They hung her paintings on the wall in the meeting room and Marcus photographed them so Abby could send the shots to Raven. He spent the night at Abby’s cottage. She didn’t see him during her art therapy session at the prison on the Thursday but he picked her up on Friday after he finished work and drove her to his place. They went for a walk and Abby painted while Marcus worked. They hung the cave painting and Kane showed her prints he’d made of their photo session the previous weekend. They were beautiful Abby had to admit, and in the really erotic one, where he’d photographed her touching herself intimately, her head was flung back and to the side so you couldn’t tell it was her, unless you knew her body well, which Marcus delighted in pointing out to her he did.

The picture of them together at the hustings had appeared in the local paper and Marcus had obtained a copy from the photographer which he’d emailed to Abby who’d emailed it to Raven, who’d sent a two-word reply which simply said “ _Damn, girl!”_ followed by a row of flame icons. Abby chose to believe she was included in the overall sentiment that the picture was hot, not just Marcus. There’d been no further correspondence from the letter-writer and it had been a happy weekend. Marcus had dropped her back home on Monday morning on his way to the prison.

October slipped into November and Abby could see a pattern developing in their relationship. They weren’t quite living in each other’s pockets, but it was close. There were only two days a week she didn’t see Marcus, and those were her prison therapy days where there was still every chance of bumping into him. She’d thought she would feel suffocated spending so much time together but she didn’t; she enjoyed it.

They’d had similar plans for this week but they were interrupted when Marcus was asked to go to a conference in London to step in for the keynote speaker who had taken ill. It was Wednesday, and Abby and Marcus were supposed to be having dinner that evening with Jackson but now Marcus wouldn’t be there, and Abby wasn’t sure she wanted to go ahead without him.

She got back from the market mid-afternoon, having fought her way through heavier-than-usual traffic in Lancaster. There was an envelope on the doormat which she trod on as she struggled in with her bags. She might not want to spend the evening alone with Jackson but at least she was prepared. She had enough food to feed half the town. She unpacked the bags in the kitchen then retrieved the letter from the mat. She went cold the minute she saw the font on the envelope. It was the same as the letters Marcus had been getting, but surely it was just a coincidence. Why would the writer start sending them to her? She slit the envelope carefully, wanting to preserve as much of any evidence there might be just in case. In case of what she didn’t know, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

There was no note in the envelope, just a cutting from the local paper. It was the picture from the night at the hustings, and their faces had been cut out. Abby dropped the cutting onto the table, not wanting to be touching it. What the hell was happening? Why would anyone do something like this? Abby had been involved in some disputes over the years. The art world could be competitive and bitchy and there were a lot of jealous, vainglorious people around and Abby had never shone away from defending herself, but this was different. This was more than jealousy. She texted Marcus.

_Are you still at home? A x_

His reply came back a minute later.

_Yes, I’ve just finished getting ready. You okay? M xx_

_I’m going to Skype you._

She opened the laptop and the Skype program. Her phone buzzed while she was waiting for her computer to connect to his but she ignored it. It would only be Marcus questioning why she wanted to Skype him and he was about to find out. He answered her call with a broad smile.

“Hi. Are you missing me already?”

Abby shook her head. “I’ve had one of the letters, Marcus.”

Marcus’s face turned white. She saw the colour drain out of it. He leant forward towards the camera. “You’ve had a letter? To your house?”

Abby nodded. “It was here when I got home from shopping.”

“Let me see.” Marcus’s tone was hard, uncompromising. Abby picked up the cutting from the table and held it in front of the camera.

“Can you see that?”

“Hold it a bit further away.”

She did as he asked and waited while Marcus examined the cutting.

“Okay,” he said and Abby put the cutting back on the table. Marcus didn’t speak for a moment.

“This is. This is beyond the pale sending it to you!” He stood up, moving out of her view, and then she could see him pacing in the distance, trying to control his anger and failing.

“Goddammit, Abby!”

“Marcus….”

He was shaking his head, muttering. “If they’ve got a problem with me they should keep it with me. It’s not okay involving you, not okay at all.”

“Marcus, come and sit back down. Talk to me.”

It was as though he couldn’t hear her. He kept pacing and muttering. “What did I do? What did I do?”

“Marcus, please. Come and sit down. Let me see you.”

He heard her then, turned to look at the computer and then he walked towards it and sat down. His worried, angry face filled Abby’s screen and she wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him, not that she really could because she was far from reassured herself, but to calm him at least.

“Sorry,” he said.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to investigate this myself, I mean hire someone to do it.”

“A private investigator?”

“Yes. I should have done it at the start and now it’s gone too far.”

“I agree,” Abby said, because he was right, this had gone too far. Trying to blackmail Marcus not to stand for Mayor was one thing, sending a defaced picture of them was quite another. Whoever was doing this was filled with hate for Marcus or for Abby or for both of them, Abby had no doubt about that. “This isn’t a simple blackmail threat, Marcus. It’s not about you as Mayor. There’s something else going on, something deeper.”

“I know. I can’t think what it is, Abby, I really can’t.”

Abby wanted to believe him, she did, but there must be something. People didn’t just start a hate campaign for no reason. She steeled herself to ask the next question. “Marcus, do you have bodies buried yourself? You can tell me, whatever it is.”

He looked down at his keyboard for a moment. “Abby,” he said, but Abby’s attention had been taken by someone walking past the window behind Marcus.

“Marcus!” she shouted.

“What?” He looked up in alarm.

“Someone just walked past your window.”

“What?” he repeated. “Which window?”

“The one behind you.”

She watched as Marcus went to the window, looked out. “I can’t see anybody,” he said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was definitely a person. It was really quick and I couldn’t see their head but definitely someone wearing a dark coat.”

“I’ll go and look,” he said and he started to move out of her view.

“Is that wise?”

Marcus’s face appeared again. “Yes, why not? It could be someone needing help, lost on the moors or something.”

“But after the press cutting, the letters. What if it’s him?”

“He’s not going to come here, he’s not going to confront me. These letters are passive-aggressive.” He smiled. “I won’t be a minute.” With that he disappeared. She heard his office door open and his boots clipping on the wooden floor and then there was silence.

Abby sat at her computer and stared at the screen. Nothing happened. She watched the rear window, waiting for movement. A minute ticked by. How long could it take? His house wasn’t that big. Then a figure walked past the window, making her jump. She put a hand to her heart as though that would steady its incessant thumping. The figure was Marcus, she was pretty sure. He was wearing a grey zip-up sweater and the other person had definitely been in a coat. She calculated it would take him thirty seconds at the most to walk around the front of the house and back to his office. She counted the seconds in her head. Thirty went past, then a minute. Where the fuck had he gone? She dialled his phone and could hear it ringing loudly where it was placed next to his computer. Damn. She cut the call and waited. It must be someone lost; he was talking to them now, telling them how to get back to the main footpath. It wouldn’t be long. It wasn’t the letter writer. He wouldn’t go there. He wouldn’t.

Three minutes and twenty-three seconds later she heard footsteps on the floor, the door opening and then Marcus came into view. He sat down, his face like thunder.

“Where have you been?” Abby said, her fear coming out in her voice.

“I walked down the lane, looking for a car. I didn’t see anyone.”

“There was definitely someone, Marcus.”

“Yes, I believe you. It was probably someone on the wrong path.”

“Maybe.” Abby didn’t believe that and she didn’t think Marcus did either judging from the frown and the worry on his face.

“I should cancel my trip,” said Marcus. “Come and stay with you, or you can come here.”

“No, Marcus. There’s no need for that. We carry on, remember. Besides, like you said, whoever’s doing this is too cowardly to confront us face to face.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Abby said this with a bravado she didn’t really feel, but she wanted Marcus to go to his conference, didn’t want him worrying about her, feeling like he had to protect her. She was a grown woman, and this was all petty and stupid when you really thought about it, designed to create fear, and she wasn’t going to give the person that satisfaction.

“Okay. Are you still going to see Jackson tonight?”

“I don’t know. It feels weird, having him in the house alone, too personal somehow. If we were going out it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Change the venue then. It will do you good to get out, Abby. Try that new Cantonese place on the High Street if you want. You can tell me what it’s like.”

“You don’t think he’ll mind?”

“Why would he? He gets to go out with the sexiest woman in Arkchester. Hmmm…,” he said and she watched him stroke his chin in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea to go out with him.” He was trying to lighten the mood before he had to go, so she played along.

“Are you jealous?” said Abby, leaning forwards so her top gaped and Marcus got a view of what he’d be missing.

His sigh was loud through the computer. “Not fair, Abby. Not fair at all.”

“Sorry,” she said with a grin.

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. You’re right.” Abby grinned and Marcus smiled back and she felt better. They would get through this together, she had faith.

“Okay then if I’m to go I’d better make a move. I’ll make some calls about the Private Investigator when I’m on the train.”

“Text me when you get there.”

“I will. I don’t know what time I’ll be home on Friday, so why don’t you come up around six. If I’m not home you can let yourself in with your key.”

“I will do.”

“Bye then.” Marcus smiled at her.

“Marcus?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Behave yourself with Jackson.” He blew her a kiss and then the screen went dark and he was gone.

Abby felt strange as she stared at the blank screen; she had butterflies in her stomach and her skin felt sensitive to touch, like her nerves were livewires just beneath the surface. She was being stupid. She’d lived two years alone and managed perfectly well; she could get through two days without Marcus. She opened up her phone and sent a text to Jackson.

_Do you mind if we switch venues to the new Cantonese restaurant on the High Street, the Hoya? Kane can’t make dinner and it would be nice to get out of the house. Abby_

A minute later her phone pinged with a text.

_That sounds great, Abby. What’s up with Kane? Is he ill? Jackson_

_No, he has to go to London, won’t be back until Friday night._

_Okay, looking forward to it._

Abby wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The last thing she felt like doing was leaving the house, but Marcus was right, it would do her good to have a change of scenery, to talk to someone who knew nothing about what was going on and who could take her mind off the letters and the strange visitor to Marcus’s house.  

\---

In the restaurant Abby cast a critical eye over the room as she waited for Jackson to arrive, trying to decide if Marcus would like it. The décor was probably too haphazard for a man who liked clean lines and neatness, with its random placement of ornaments and clashing reds and yellows, but it was hygienic as far as she could tell, and the waiters were very smart in their traditional dress. It would all come down to the food she supposed.

“I’m glad you invited me, Abby,” Jackson said as he sat down opposite her. “I haven’t been to this restaurant before.”

“Me either. Sorry about the change of venue. At least you’ve been spared having to eat my food.”

“That’s the only thing I’m sad about. I’m sure I would have enjoyed it.”

“Marcus sends his apologies,” said Abby, watching Jackson for his reaction.

“Yes, it’s a shame he couldn’t be here.” Jackson picked up the menu and looked at it and Abby thought he did it so he wouldn’t have to look at her while he lied. She wasn’t sure if he’d lied because he was glad to be alone with her or because he didn’t have to spend time with Marcus. Maybe it was both. She decided to probe him gently for information.

“Have you known him long?”

Jackson looked up from his menu. “Who, Kane?” Abby nodded. “Since I came to Arkchester so that’s what, six years maybe.”

“Six years? So was this your first job after graduating?”

“Yes pretty much. I did an internship in Manchester and then I got the job here.”

“Did you always want to work in a prison?”

“The internship I got was in a prison so it followed on from there, but I am a believer in justice, yes, and I feel I can help ensure that the prisoners have fair access to treatment and support.”

“I think that’s wonderful. I’ve seen what a great job you do, how caring you are with the prisoners.” Jackson smiled at Abby’s words.

“Thank you.”

“You know, Marcus is really passionate about justice too. It’s why he went into the prison service rather than becoming a politician.” Abby hoped she wasn’t betraying Marcus by telling Jackson this. She wanted to improve his standing in the doctor’s eyes, try to make him see the man behind the Governor, see the caring, thoughtful man she knew.

“Is that what he told you?” Jackson looked up at Abby, his dark eyes curious.

“Yes. He believes in justice and fairness for everyone. He even has a charitable foundation to give kids equal access to training and jobs, to help them with their futures.” She realised as she spoke that she was trying too hard, sounding like a member of the Marcus Kane Appreciation Society, of which she suspected, if such a thing were to exist, she would be the only member.

“He runs a tight ship at the prison, I’ll say that for him.”

The waiter arrived to take their orders and Jackson fussed over the menu before finally making his decision.

“You’re not a fan of his, are you?” said Abby when the waiter left.

Jackson looked uncomfortable, shuffling in his seat. “He makes it hard to like him. I’ve always found him rude. I’m sorry, Abby, I know you and he are close, but that’s how I feel.”

“I know he can come across that way.”

“He IS that way, Abby.”

“Not to me,” she said quietly. There was little else she could say that wouldn’t involve telling Jackson about their relationship, and she’d already skirted the boundary of what Marcus might find acceptable information to give away. The waiter brought their drinks and Abby sipped her wine while she and Jackson weighed each other up. She suspected he was considering how far he could go in his questioning. He wasn’t going to get very far, she decided.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but what do you see in him? I’m honestly curious.”

“What nobody else does, apparently.”

Jackson closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, that was… I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re not the first person to ask it,” she said, thinking back to Diana saying the same thing when she’d appeared in Abby’s garden unexpectedly. Their meals arrived to save her from having to elaborate further on Jackson’s question.

She changed the subject while they ate, asking Jackson about Arkchester and its residents, telling him as little as she could about her previous life. Jackson was surprisingly funny, his anecdotes about his life and his work in the prison making her laugh so loud she drew glares from the only other couple in the restaurant.

“Have you always lived in Arkchester?” she asked as the waiter cleared away their plates.

“No. I’m from Leicester. I came here for the job.”

“It can be hard living a long way from home, can’t it?” said Abby even though she had no idea where Leicester was. “Do you see much of your family?”

“There’s only my parents. My brother died a long time ago, when I was a kid. I see them when I can.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Abby.

Jackson nodded. “Thanks. My parents are over-protective, so it was a relief to get away to be honest.”

“My mom’s still alive. Sometimes I wonder if she remembers I exist because she doesn’t take my calls or answer texts, and then suddenly I’ll get something wildly inappropriate in the mail, usually from Disneyland.” Abby laughed again, but it was at the image of Marcus in her Snow White pyjamas which had risen unbidden to the front of her mind. Of course, Jackson didn’t know about that. He laughed along with her anyway.

“That was great,” said Jackson when they’d settled the bill, Abby’s treat as she was supposed to be cooking for him anyway. “I’ll have to bring Nate here.”

“Who’s Nate?” said Abby as Jackson helped her with her coat.

“My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Abby couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Yes.” Jackson gave her a penetrating look. “You thought I fancied you, didn’t you?”

“What? No!” Abby wrapped her scarf around her face so Jackson couldn’t see the blush she was sure was blooming on her face.

Jackson laughed. “It’s okay. You’re not entirely wrong. I may have a tiny crush on you, only because you’re the most exotic person we’ve ever had in Arkchester.”

It was Abby’s turn to laugh. “Trust me, there’s nothing exotic about me.”

“I disagree.” Jackson held the door open for Abby and she stepped out into the cold November air. There was a mist, and the glow from the street lights diffused into a yellow haze around them. Abby shivered. “You’re sophisticated and you have great taste,” continued Jackson as he followed her into the street. “Apart from your taste in men.” He grinned at Abby and she nudged him playfully.

“One last thing on the subject of Marcus, and then I’ll shut up.”

“Go on then,” said Jackson with a roll of his eyes.

“I asked him about what John Murphy said the other week, about Caroline and Jaha.”

“Oh, right. What did he say?”

“He didn’t steal her from him. They had split up before she started dating Marcus.”

“So he says.”

“I believe him.” She was annoyed at Jackson’s scepticism. Why couldn’t he give her and Marcus the benefit of the doubt?

“I’m sure you do, and maybe he is telling the truth. It’s just. You’re a lovely person, Abby, kind and trusting, and I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

How presumptuous of him, to think that he knew her well enough to make these comments about her! She wasn’t trusting, at least not anymore, and why should she trust Jackson’s opinion when he’d already been wrong once, and he didn’t know Marcus like she did? She’d made that mistake already and she wasn’t about to repeat it.

“Thank you for your concern, but I can look after myself.” Her tone must have sounded sharp to Jackson because he flinched.

“I’m sorry. God, I keep putting my foot in it. Look, I really like you. I’d like us to get to know each other, to be friends. Kane’s my boss, and you know, he’s a good boss, he really is. He’s fair, like you said. Your relationship with him is none of my business. I’m sorry, Abby.”

Abby nodded, pulled her coat tighter around her. “Okay. You should get to know him better, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Yes, you’re right. Well, I hope we can do this again.”

“After the election perhaps.”

“Sounds good. Can I walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s so dark and misty.”

“I know my way. Thank you, though.” She smiled at Jackson and then turned and headed up the High Street in the direction of her cottage. She didn’t know why Jackson thought she had a better chance of getting to her house in the dark if he was with her than alone. It was her house! It was a man thing, maybe, the need to protect, or he was just being kind. Whatever, she was quite capable of walking along a road by herself. She slung her bag across her shoulder and tucked her hands into her pockets, walking quickly with her head down to protect her face from the wind. A couple of times she thought she heard footsteps, and she stopped and turned, thinking maybe it was Jackson telling her she’d left something at the restaurant, but there was no one there, at least no one she could see. She increased her pace anyway, and was glad to reach her house twenty-minutes later and get her key in the door, shut it behind her.

Her computer was buzzing and she opened the lid and the Skype programme. Marcus’s face filled the screen.

“Hi,” he said with a grin.

“Hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I was bored.” Marcus’s gaze moved over Abby and behind her. “Are you alone?”

“Yes! I just got in. Jackson’s not hiding in a corner of the room I promise.” Abby took off her scarf, unfastened her coat.

“I should hope not! What are you wearing?” said Marcus with a raised eyebrow.

Abby slipped the coat from her shoulders. “My black dress.” She turned from side to side in her seat so Marcus could see her. “What are you wearing?”

“Just my socks.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to see?”

Abby couldn’t keep a huge smile off her face. This man was not cold or rude or a liar. He was warm and funny and if he kept that side of himself just for her then she wasn’t complaining.

“I guess I have nothing better to do,” she said, and she settled back in her chair and watched as Marcus panned his phone camera slowly down his body.

\---

On Friday Abby was late setting off to Marcus’s house. She’d got caught up in her studio painting and lost track of time, so it was gone six o’clock before she even got on the road. The night was dark and misty again, and she drove slowly along the winding, narrow road to his house. She wasn’t too worried about the time because he hadn’t texted her to say he was home, so he was probably running late as well like he’d thought he would be. She was surprised, then, when she turned into his drive and her headlights picked out his car parked in its usual spot. Maybe he hadn’t been here long. She pulled up next to it, retrieved her overnight bag from the boot of her Volvo and went to the front door. The door opened when she tested the handle and for a second she was annoyed with him for not locking it again, but then she figured he was expecting her, so it was natural he would leave it unlocked.

She pushed open the door, smiling as she stepped inside, expecting to see him sitting on the sofa or standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine in his hand. Instead she was confronted with a scene of chaos, Marcus lying on his back on the floor, the contents of plastic shopping bags strewn around him. There was a large pool of something red by his side and Abby’s stomach lurched into her throat at the size of it until she saw the broken bottle and realised it must be wine.

“Marcus!” she shouted, and dropped her bag, ran to him. His eyes were closed and he didn’t respond. She brushed aside some of the glass, knelt by his head. “Marcus it’s me, Abby.” She shook his shoulders but still no response. He was breathing, she could see the rise and fall of his chest, but something was terribly wrong because he wasn’t coming round like she thought he would if he’d just had a fall and knocked himself out. She looked around, saw there was blood and something that could be hairs on the edge of the coffee table and she carefully felt the side of his head, her fingers coming away sticky with blood. Fuck!

She rummaged around in her bag, trying to find her phone. She couldn’t find it. Why did she have such a stupid big bag she could never find anything in? She upturned the bag so everything fell on the floor and finally found the phone. She dialled the emergency number with shaky fingers and was put through to the ambulance service.

“What’s your emergency?” the voice on the end of the phone said.

“My boyfriend’s injured. I found him lying on the floor. I think he’s banged his head, there’s blood and he’s not responding.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes, he’s breathing but he’s unconscious.” Abby took deep breaths. She’d thought she would panic in a situation like this but she felt calm, in control.

“Okay, we have your GPS coordinates from your phone. I’ve contacted the air ambulance and they’re on their way. Is the wound still bleeding?”

“No. There was no pool of blood and what was in his hair was sticky, like it was coagulating.”

“Okay, that’s good information. What's your name, love?"

"Abby. Abby Griffin."

"How long ago did this happen, Abby?”

“I don’t know. I just arrived and found him. I was supposed to be hear at six but I was late. He thought he would be home around six but it could have been later. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. The air ambulance will be with you in fifteen minutes. Is there anywhere flat close by they can land?”

Abby tried to picture the lay of the land outside Marcus’s house. Her mind was blank at first and then she closed her eyes and visualised where she’d been painting last weekend. “Yes. There’s a field on top of a rise behind the house and if you look towards the house on the left-hand side there are some steps and a gate. The gate is never locked.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll relay that information to the ambulance.”

The line went silent and Abby stroked Marcus’s face, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Help is on its way,” she said. “You’re going to be fine.” 

“I’ve notified the police,” said the emergency operator when she returned to the call. “They’ll be in touch, probably want to look at the scene.”

“I’m sure he’s just had a fall,” said Abby, but her pulsed raced even more as she said the words. She thought about the letter-writer, and the figure that had been near Marcus’s house just two days before. What if it wasn’t an accident? What if Marcus had been attacked?

“The police will determine that,” said the operator.

“Yes, of course.”

“The air ambulance has requested you switch all the lights on in the house and any outdoor lights. It will help them find you more easily.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“I’ll disconnect the call now. They’re only a couple of minutes away.”

“Thank you.” Abby stroked Marcus’s face and then she stood up, stepped carefully over the broken glass and the strewn vegetables and switched on all the lights in the living room and kitchen. She headed to his office, opened the door slowly. Her heart was beating out of her chest. If his fall wasn’t an accident the perpetrator could still be in the house. She hadn’t seen a car but then Marcus hadn’t seen a car on Wednesday and there was definitely someone here. It wasn’t that far to the public footpath. Someone could easily have come up to the house from that. She felt at the side of the wall for the light switch, flicking it on before ducking her head into the room. There was no one there. She did the same in all the other rooms, hurrying because she didn’t want to leave Marcus alone for too long in case his condition changed.

When she’d been through the whole house she returned to her position by his side, holding his hand, talking softly to him, willing him to show a sign that he could hear her. A minute later and she heard the roar of the helicopter’s engine. She left the house, went around to the back and through the gate so she could guide the paramedics quickly.

The helicopter landed and a man and a woman jumped out. Abby shouted to them and they followed her down the steps, through the gate and into the house.

“What’s your name?” said the man.

“Abby.”

“Hi Abby. I’m Doctor Thomas. This is Doctor Buckley.” Doctor Thomas knelt beside Marcus like Abby had done. “What’s his name?” he said as he started checking Marcus over.

“Marcus. Marcus Kane.”

“Hi Marcus. I’m Doctor Thomas. Can you give me a sign if you can hear me?”

There was no response from Marcus. The Doctor turned Marcus so he could examine his head wound. Abby could see it properly for the first time. There was a fair amount of blood, but it looked sticky rather than wet like she’d first thought, his hair matted with it. How long had he been lying alone on the cold floor? She felt sick at the thought of Marcus hitting his head on the table, hoped it had been too quick for him to realise what was happening, feel any pain.

“Abby?” Doctor Buckley pulled Abby to one side, turned her so she couldn’t see what Doctor Thomas was doing.

“Yes?”

“How old is Marcus?”

“Forty-three.”

The doctor made notes as she spoke to Abby. “Is he usually in good health?”

“Yes. He’s very fit. He walks. When he can. He’s very busy. He’s running for Mayor.” Most of that information was unnecessary but Abby couldn’t help herself, she wanted to talk about Marcus even though it made no sense. The doctor nodded, made more notes.

“I know who he is. He’s a big supporter of the air ambulance service. And you’re his girlfriend?”

“His partner, yes.” He supported the air ambulance service? Abby was no longer surprised to find another example of Marcus’s private generosity. He probably funded half this town secretly.

“You found him, what, about twenty minutes ago now?”

“Yes, but I don’t know when it happened. Could have been just before that or up to an hour before. I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Does he have any relatives, any next of kin?”

Abby had no idea if Marcus’s parents were still alive, or if they were his next of kin. She tried to think back to the few conversations they’d had about them, whether he’d talked about them in the present or past tense. She couldn’t remember.

“I don’t know if his parents are still alive. He’s an only child. He has no children of his own.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

Behind Abby, Doctor Thomas was radioing to the helicopter crew and a minute later another paramedic arrived with a stretcher. The doctor put a head protector on Marcus, and between them the medics lifted him onto a stretcher and strapped him to it.

“We’re going to take Marcus to the Royal Lancaster Infirmary, Abby,” Doctor Thomas said. “He’s in good hands.”

“Can I come with him?”

“Not in the helicopter, no, I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t I go with him?” Abby sounded petulant to her own ears, but she didn’t want to leave Marcus, didn’t want him to go alone to the hospital, to be alone if God forbid anything happened. “Please.”

“Abby.” Doctor Buckley took Abby to one side as the other two medics packed up their equipment. “Marcus needs specialist care in the helicopter. You’d get in the way. I’m sorry to be blunt but that’s the truth. Do you have a car?”

“Yes. Yes, I have a car.” The medics were taking Marcus out of the house on the stretcher and Abby felt like a piece of her heart and soul was going with him.

“Then drive to the Royal. He’ll be in the Intensive Care Unit.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She ran out of the door after Marcus, managed to grab hold of his hand and squeeze it before he was whisked away up the steps and into the helicopter. She watched for a moment as it lifted off and flew out over the hills becoming a smaller and smaller dot of light until it blinked out like a star in the first glow of dawn.

She returned to the house, went into practical mode, not thinking about his head wound, all the blood, the hair on the coffee table, not thinking about that at all. It wouldn’t do any good. She had to be like Marcus, sensible, practical. She looked for his overnight bag amongst the debris but it wasn’t there, just plastic bags from Fortnum and Mason which Abby knew was a high-end store in London. She’d shopped there sometimes when she was preparing dinner parties for her clients. Marcus’s car keys were on the floor and she hesitated, wondering whether she should disturb them if this did turn out to be a crime scene. She took a photo of their position with her phone and then picked them up, going out to his car and using them to pop the boot. His bag was inside, and she took it into the house and rummaged through it. His clothes were neatly folded and there was a file beneath them which she took out and scanned. It was his presentation to the conference, annotated in his neat handwriting with coloured tabs separating the sections. It reminded her of her report he’d been perusing that day he’d called her to his office and she’d embarrassed herself with the biscuit crumbs. The memory tugged at her heart, made tears well. She blinked them away. She wanted to get out of here and over to the hospital.

She took the bag to Marcus’s room, put his worn clothes in his laundry basket and replaced them with new ones. His phone was in the front pocket of the bag and she pulled it out, slid her finger across the screen and it requested a passcode. She typed in Marcus’s birthdate and the phone granted her access. He was far too predictable for someone so private. She scrolled through his contacts quickly, looking for mum and/or dad but there was no number stored under those headings.

Satisfied she’d got everything he might need she went around the house, switching off all the lights and then she picked up her own overnight bag just in case she had to stay at the hospital with him, locked the door and put the bags in the boot of her Volvo. She looked up the postcode for the hospital and entered it into her phone’s satnav. It would take her an hour to get to Lancaster, so she put her foot down as fast as she dared and sped through the night towards Marcus, not knowing what condition she was going to find him in when she got there.


	16. Secrets and Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby waits on news of Marcus, and there's an unexpected visitor to the hospital.

The hospital car parks were jammed full when Abby arrived just before nine. It was probably still visiting time. She drove round and round the hospital growing increasingly despairing. Surely someone had to come out and move their damned car! There was a snake of desperate drivers like her though, winding in and out of the lanes looking for a space. She was contemplating dumping her Volvo in a restricted zone when she saw a car pull out of a space she had just passed. Another space-hunting driver was behind her and she supposed technically as she had passed the space it rightly belonged to him but sod that. She threw the car into reverse and steered into the space before the driver behind could react. He found his horn and blasted it at her but Abby didn’t care. She grabbed her bag and Marcus’s phone and ran to the emergency department entrance.

“I’m looking for Marcus Kane,” she said breathlessly to the nurse behind the counter. “He was brought in by air ambulance an hour ago.”

The nurse typed on her keyboard with one finger of each hand and Abby tapped her car key on the counter. Hurry, up, hurry up!

“He’s in ICU,” the nurse said, which Abby could have figured.

“Where’s that?” she said sharply.

The nurse pointed to a sign on the wall. Abby smiled at her sarcastically and then hurried down the hallway in the direction the sign was pointing. It took ten minutes to walk along three hallways, up two flights of stairs and along another three hallways that were the length of football pitches or so it felt. She pushed open the door to the Intensive Care Unit and was confronted with another desk. The nurse sat behind it was more attentive than the one downstairs.

“How can I help you?” he said.

“I’m looking for Marcus Kane. He was brought in earlier by air ambulance.”

The nurse nodded. Abby looked at his nametape, Ahmed was his name. “What’s your relationship to Mr Kane?”

“He’s my partner. We’re together,” Abby qualified, in case Nurse Ahmed thought she meant in a business capacity and wouldn’t let her see him.

“Abby Griffin?”

“Yes,” said Abby surprised that the nurse knew her name.

“I can see it in Mr Kane’s notes.” He smiled reassuringly, but Abby didn’t want his smile, she wanted to know about Marcus.

“How is he? Can I see him?”

“He’s in surgery at the moment.”

“Oh. But he’s okay. He’s going to be okay?”

“He’s in good hands.”

That’s what they always said when they didn’t want to tell you the truth. Abby had taken her mother to the hospital a few years ago when she’d fallen from a ladder trying to paint a mural on the fascia of her house, and it had been the same then.

“That’s all you can tell me?”

“Yes, for now. I’m sorry.”

“Okay. What should I do?”

“There’s a waiting room for family members down the hall.” Nurse Ahmed pointed in the direction of the room and Abby thanked him and followed the sign to a small neat room with chairs and flowers and pictures of seascapes on the wall which she supposed were meant to be soothing, but they made her think of Marcus and the view from his house, and that upset her.

Her phone rang from an unfamiliar number and she answered it. “Hello.”

“Mrs Griffin?”

“Yes.”

“This is Lancashire Constabulary. We believe you’ve been involved in an incident with Governor Marcus Kane?”

“Constabulary?” Abby had no idea what that meant.

“We’re the police, Mrs Griffin. I’m Sergeant Evans.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Yes, I found Marcus earlier tonight. He was unconscious with a head injury.”

“I’d like to talk to you and also gain access to Governor Kane’s house.”

“I’m at the hospital, in Lancaster. He’s in ICU. I’m not leaving,” she added.

“That’s not a problem. I can come to you. I’m only a few minutes away.”

“Okay. I’m in the family room.”

She disconnected the call and sat back. She’d never been good at waiting. Couldn’t stand having nothing to do. She pulled Marcus’s phone out of her bag, stared at it. She should probably have a proper look through his contacts, see if there were people she should inform. She put in the code and scrolled through the list of names. Some of them she recognised as people she’d met, or people he worked with. Others she had no clue if they were relatives or work colleagues. There was nothing under Caroline or Callie, so he hadn’t kept in touch with her like he’d said. He didn’t have Diana Sydney’s number either and that pleased Abby she didn’t mind admitting.

She looked through his text history to see if there was someone he contacted regularly but she was the only person he texted. That made Abby’s heart tighten in her chest. There was no one else he was intimate with. Only her. She closed the apps and looked at the phone. The background was plain and the icons on the front were the usual ones with no additions. Her thumb hovered over the Gallery. She really shouldn’t pry through his phone, looking for contacts was one thing, looking through his pictures quite another, but there might be something, a clue. She pressed her thumb on the icon.

The gallery was organised by album and the first one was called Abby. There was no way Abby could deny her curiosity now. She pressed on the album and pictures of her came up, mostly ones he’d taken with his professional camera and clearly transferred to his phone so he could have them with him. There was the one he’d taken on their first moorland walk, a couple of the ones he’d taken during their photography session, her silhouetted against the window, nude except for her high heels, her teasing him by pulling her shirt down to expose the swell of her breast. You couldn’t see her face in either of the photos. Maybe that was in case he ever lost his phone, but then they were in an album with her name, so perhaps not the best decision, Marcus!

There were some he must have taken on his phone without her knowing, including a snap of her playing the penny arcade game in Blackpool. It was in profile; she was leaning forward over the machine, concentrating. She had no idea why he’d kept that. He’d said he was Googling fish and chip shops when she’d caught him on his phone, but he was obviously doing more than that. There was one of her at the art exhibition, talking animatedly to a member of the public, her arms flung up in the air, gesturing towards her canvases, and others caught at random moments.

The last picture made Abby frown with confusion. It was of her, but she looked much younger. Abby zoomed into the picture. Her skin was smooth and unlined, her eyes large and smiling. She had no make-up on and her hair was long and straight. It must have been taken some time ago, ten or more years at least. How had he got that, and why? She pondered the picture. He must have downloaded it during his Google search of her name. She couldn’t think why he would want an old photo of her, though.

His camera album contained shots of random things he’d found interesting or wanted to capture quickly. It was mostly birds, and gates and old signs. The last image was an artistic shot of an old wrought-iron gate he must have taken in London.

The only other album was called Letters and Abby clicked on that, expecting to find photos of the letters he’d received and that’s what it contained, along with shots of the envelopes and a red post box he’d titled Market St, Lancaster. She counted the letters, four in total, which was right, except no, because he couldn’t have a shot of the letter she’d received. Abby clicked on the images one by one. The first one, in its strangely formal language, threatening them with unnamed “evidence”, the second one with the blurred photo, and the third one, with the same photo unblurred. There was a fourth image, and Abby opened it, her heart racing. There were only four words on the paper.

_I will have justice._

Abby’s blood ran cold as she read the words. The next image was of the envelope and Abby looked closely at it. It was dated last week so Marcus had received it after the unblurred photo and before she’d got the cutting from the newspaper. He’d had it for a week but he hadn’t told her about it. Why not? What did it mean, I will have justice? Justice for what? She could only assume he hadn’t told her about it because he knew what it meant and he didn’t want her to know. What had he done? Was this what had prompted the Foundation? Was this the decision that he didn’t want to define him?

There was a noise outside the room and Abby looked up to see a man in an ill-fitting suit flanked by two women in police uniform heading towards the door. She closed Marcus’s phone, slipped it into her bag.

“Mrs Griffin?” said the man in the dark grey suit as he entered the room.

“Yes. It’s Abby, please.” Abby stood, and the man held out his hand to shake hers before running it through his limp, thinning brown hair.

“I’m Sergeant Evans. We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes, of course, please sit down.” Abby gestured to the seat next to hers and Sergeant Evans sat, squeezing his large frame between the metal arms. Abby resumed her place.

“I’m sorry to meet you in these circumstances. Can you tell me what happened in regards to Governor Kane?”

Abby described everything from the moment she’d parked outside Marcus’s house to the helicopter taking off with him in it. Evans nodded and made notes but didn’t interrupt.

“Was there anything unusual, anything out of place?”

“No, nothing that I could see. It looked like he’d just entered the house with his shopping bags and slipped or I don’t know what and banged his head.”

“And you can think of no reason why anyone would want to hurt the Governor, if that turns out to be the case?”

Abby hesitated. She should tell the policeman about the letters, especially the one she’d just found on Marcus’s phone, but he hadn’t wanted the police to know, and she didn’t want to tell them unnecessarily. He was sure to wake up soon and then they would know it was an accident and there would be no need to tell the police their private business. “Not that I’m aware of,” she said, and held the Sergeant’s gaze as he looked at her.

“Okay. Well that will be all for now. I’d like to examine the scene. Do you have a key to Governor Kane’s house?”

“Yes, I do.” Abby took the key from her key chain. It felt strange, handing it over, like she was giving up something private and personal. Marcus had trusted her with it, and now strangers were going to be walking through the house, prying into his things.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

Abby nodded, and the Sergeant and his police officers left. She should have told them about the threats; her reasoning seemed weak now that she thought about it, but she was worried about Marcus, concerned that whatever was in his past that he was unable to talk to her about, was something that could ruin his life. She wasn’t going to be responsible for that. She switched on her phone to check the time. Two hours since she’d found Marcus and she had no idea what condition he was in, whether he’d regained consciousness, what surgery he was having. Hopefully it was something simple to stitch up his head wound, but he could have been lying unconscious for an hour before she found him, which meant three hours now, and that wasn’t good, not good at all.

She left the family room, went back to reception. Nurse Ahmed was still on duty.

“Is there any news on Marcus Kane?” Abby said as the nurse looked at her with a sympathetic smile.

“No, I’m sorry Mrs Griffin. Someone will come and tell you when there is, I promise.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Abby reluctantly returned to the family room. She sat and thought about Marcus, about the letter he hadn’t told her about. He’d told her she could trust him, that he would show her, not just say the words, but holding this back from her wasn’t going to help her trust again. If it had been a very compromising photo that he didn’t want her to see for fear of upsetting her or embarrassing her she could understand hiding it, but this was a few words, important words that could shed light on who was blackmailing them, and he’d chosen not to tell her about it. That could only mean he knew what this was about and it was bad, something that implicated him in a crime or an activity that she wouldn’t like, that might be against the law, or might make her not want to be with him anymore. She couldn’t think what that could be, but Google might provide the answer.

Abby searched Marcus’s name, but there were hundreds of hits, thousands probably. There were articles about his successes as Governor, news items on speeches, conferences, papers he’d written, pictures of him at various functions, including the one of them both at the hustings. It was captioned Councillor Kane and his campaign manager, which made Abby laugh. She ran her finger over the picture. There had to be a good reason for him withholding the letter from her. She didn’t want to believe that he had been lying to her or playing some long con. What could he get out of it? No. He wanted her to trust him, and despite what she’d found, she did. She couldn’t explain why, and maybe she was deluding herself, but she wanted to trust him, wasn’t ready to close the door on their relationship when it was becoming something wonderful. She closed the browser window. The truth would come out. He just had to wake up, and then they could talk.

Two hours she sat in the family room, waiting for news, thinking about the letter-writer, about Marcus, worrying about him. She went back to her car to renew her parking ticket and retrieved Marcus’s bag from the boot while she was there. She’d been back in the room no more than five minutes when Nurse Ahmed entered. Abby stood up, stared at the nurse intently, trying to get a sense of what news he was about to give.

“Mr Kane is out of surgery.”

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know the details of his condition. I can tell you he’s recovering in a private room in ICU.”

Abby felt some relief. Recovering sounded good. “Can I see him?”

“Yes. I’ll take you to his room.”

“Thank you.” Abby gathered up Marcus’s bag and her own and followed the nurse to a room at the end of a short corridor. When the nurse had said Marcus was recovering, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but it wasn’t what she saw.

Marcus was hooked up to a range of monitors and he had a breathing tube attached. “Why does he need help breathing?” she said to Nurse Ahmed, alarmed.

“I’m not the person to tell you what you need to know. The consultant will be along soon to talk to you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Nurse Ahmed left, and Abby put her bags down in the corner of the room. She sat in a chair next to Marcus, dragging it round so she could get hold of his hand beneath the blanket. She took a proper look at him. His head was bandaged and where the wound had been there was a small plastic object that looked like a bolt sticking out. This was attached by a wire to a computer monitor. Abby had no idea what it was, but it didn’t look good. Marcus’s eyes were closed and there was a tube coming from his throat that was hooked up to another machine, a ventilator to help him breathe. The sound from the machine was rhythmic and strangely soothing. Abby squeezed Marcus’s hand.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s me. It’s Abby. I’m here.” She tried to keep her voice calm and even in case he could hear her, but it was hard because all she wanted to do was cry. He looked so vulnerable lying there, needing help to breathe and whatever that thing sticking out of his head was doing. 

The door opened, and Abby stood as a young doctor entered the room.

“Mrs Kane?” she said as she shook Abby’s hand.

“Er, no. I’m Abby Griffin.”

“You’re not his wife?”

“No, I’m his girlfriend.”

The doctor dropped her hand, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. “Oh, erm, I see. Erm. Well, I should perhaps tell you that Mr Kane’s wife is on her way here.”

“His wife?” Abby was astonished at this news. The hospital must have made a mistake.

“Did you not know he had a wife?” The doctor’s embarrassment at having to take part in this conversation was evident in her pink cheeks and the way she could barely look at Abby.

“He has an ex-wife. He’s been divorced for eight years.”

“Oh. Right.”

“There must have been some mistake. His ex-wife can’t be on her way here.”

The doctor flicked through her paperwork. “Mrs Caroline Kane is named as next of kin. The police will have informed her as a matter of course.”

“I see.” Abby didn’t see at all, couldn’t understand why Caroline was still Marcus’s next of kin or why she was coming to the hospital to see him. From what Abby knew she’d been out of Marcus’s life since the day she left him, apart from signing divorce papers. “Okay, thank you,” she said to the doctor. “What can you tell me about his condition?”

The doctor blushed again. “I can’t tell you anything unless you are a relative. I’m sorry.”

“I’m his partner. I’m all he has!” Abby blurted, her fears over Marcus’s condition and her annoyance that Caroline was coming combining to make her desperate.

“That may be Ms Griffin but she’s his next of kin. There’s nothing I can do.”

Abby took hold of Marcus’s hand. It was cold and she rubbed it between her hands, trying to warm it up. “What have you done, Marcus?” she whispered. She looked up at the doctor. “I’m sorry I was short. I’m just so worried.”

“I understand. Look, I can tell you that he has undergone a small, though not insignificant, procedure so we can monitor him, but his vital signs are encouraging. He’s been sedated to allow his brain to rest. He took a significant blow to the head, but it could be worse, a lot worse.” She put her hand on Abby’s arm. “You didn’t hear that from me, though.”

Abby nodded. “Thank you.”

The nurse who had been standing quietly next to the doctor all this time handed Abby a plastic bag with the hospital’s name stamped all over it.

“These are Mr Kane’s belongings, what he had on him when he came in,” said the doctor. “Perhaps you could give them to his wife when she arrives.”

The doctor left, and Abby hid the bag beneath Marcus’s bed. There was no way she was giving his things to Caroline. She sat in the chair by Marcus’s side, leant forward and gently kissed his head. He looked peaceful.

“Murphy was cheeky again yesterday,” she said as she stroked Marcus’s hand. “He’s supposed to be encouraging Williams to open up about his depression and use bolder strokes in his painting but when I asked them to show the group what they’d been working on it was a caricature of the picture of us that was in the paper.” She laughed at the memory of Murphy’s grinning face as he’d watched for her reaction when Williams turned the painting around. “I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Murphy said I must be good for you because no one had ever seen Governor Kane smile in all the history of your time in Arkchester. I know I shouldn’t encourage him by laughing but he does liven up the sessions I can’t deny it.”

She watched Marcus’s face closely as she talked, looking for any sign he could hear her, but there was nothing. His eyes fluttered beneath their lids but she thought it was involuntary. His chest rose and fell with the ventilator and his hand lay limply in hers. She squeezed it, and laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes.

“Who are you?” said a sharp voice, and Abby jumped because she must have drifted off to sleep on Marcus’s chest and the voice had intruded into her darkness. She sat up, looked in the direction of the voice. A small, petite woman with jet black hair was standing with arms folded glaring at Abby, her brown eyes so piercing Abby recoiled beneath her stare.

“I’m Abby Griffin.” Abby stood so she was on a par with the woman, whom she guessed must be Caroline.

“Who are you to Marcus?” said the woman as she came further into the room. She was wearing a tight black suit with a pencil skirt and fitted jacket and heels so high she towered over Abby although Abby suspected they were the same height. Marcus must have a thing for small women, and that thought made her smile inwardly. “Well?” said the woman, having not received an answer quick enough.

“I’m his partner,” said Abby, feeling that girlfriend was too frivolous and not wishing to undermine her status in front of this frowning woman. “You must be Caroline.” She held out her hand and Caroline took it, shaking it limply.

“So, he’s finally found someone to put up with him, has he?” She said this without a hint of amusement.

“If you mean he’s found someone who cares about him a great deal, then yes he has.” Abby held Caroline’s gaze and received only a raised eyebrow in response.

Caroline pushed past Abby so she could stand next to Marcus and look down on him. “Wait until you’ve been with him a while. You’ll soon get fed up of his ways.”

Abby bristled at Caroline’s dismissal of Marcus. What kind of person said something like that to a person she’d only just met, or to anyone for that matter? “I already know all his ways. They’re what I love most about him,” she said defiantly, only realising too late that she’d used the ‘L’ word. She’d never even said that to Marcus and now his ex-wife had somehow drawn that confession from her. 

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Trust me,” she said.

The doctor entered, the young woman from before and an older male nurse. “Mrs Kane?” she said addressing Caroline.

“Yes.”

“I’m Doctor Martin. I have an update for you, if you wish.”

“You’d better tell me.”

The doctor glanced from Caroline to Abby, and Caroline followed her gaze.

“You can leave now,” said Caroline. “I’ll take it from here.”

“I’m not leaving,” replied Abby, her voice becoming as sharp as Caroline’s.

“I don’t think you have any right to be here,” said Caroline, looking at the doctor for confirmation. Doctor Martin nodded, looking at Abby apologetically.

“And you do? You haven’t seen Marcus in eight years. What are you even doing here, Caroline?”

“I was called by the police and they made it sound like he was at death’s door. I presumed there would be decisions to make.”

She said this with a certain amount of glee, as though she was relishing having some power over Marcus. Abby’s blood was at boiling point and she had to take deep breaths to keep herself calm. She sat back down on her seat and took hold of Marcus’s hand again. “I’m not leaving,” she repeated, and Caroline sighed.

“Very well. You’d better tell us both the news,” she said to the doctor.

Doctor Martin looked from Caroline to Abby and back and then decided to address her comments to the space in between them.

“As you know, Mr Kane has suffered a head injury. Upon arrival at the hospital he underwent a CT scan to assess the seriousness of the injury. It showed he had what we call a traumatic subarachnoid haemorrhage, that’s bleeding and swelling of his brain, probably resulting from the blow he received when his head hit the table.”

Abby winced at her words, at the image they conjured up in her mind of Marcus falling. She glanced at Caroline who remained passive. “Is that why he has been unconscious for so long?”

“We can’t be certain how long he was unconscious before you found him Ms Griffin, but the pressure building in his brain prevented him from regaining consciousness, yes.”

“If I’d got there earlier…” said Abby, sick at the thought that she could have helped Marcus.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference to his level of consciousness, and the CT scan showed that the bleed wasn’t as severe as it could have been.” Doctor Martin smiled reassuringly at Abby, who was not reassured.

“He still hasn’t regained consciousness,” Abby said looking at Marcus. “Is that bad?”

“He’s in a medically-induced coma now. That’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s to help his brain rest and recover. The object you can see is an intracranial pressure monitor. That will alert us to any changes in pressure in his skull. We know everything that’s happening with him and so far it’s all looking good.” She smiled again, and this time Abby did feel some relief. The doctor seemed confident and relaxed, not that she was likely to show any fear or panic but still, it gave Abby some comfort.

“So he’s not about to die, then?” said Caroline, and Abby looked at her, appalled at the bluntness of her question.

“He’s not out of the woods yet, but the prognosis at this moment in time is good. We will monitor him for the next twenty-four hours, and if the pressure is relieved, and he is able to breathe on his own, then we will bring him out of the coma.”

“Thank you, Doctor Martin,” said Abby, and the doctor nodded at her and Caroline and left the room hurriedly, a relieved look on her face.

“Well, said Caroline as she leant on the edge of Marcus’s bed. “Seems like I had a wasted journey.”

“Were you hoping he would die?” said Abby, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

“Of course not, but the police could have waited to see what was happening before dragging me all the way up here.”

“Where have you come from?” said Abby, thinking it couldn’t be that far as it was only a few hours since Marcus had been found.

“Wilmslow.”

“Where’s that?”

“South of Manchester, darling. You wouldn’t know it.”

South of Manchester? That couldn’t be more than an hour from Lancaster on the motorway, especially at this time of night when the roads were quiet. Hardly a major inconvenience for Caroline. Abby still wasn’t sure why she’d come. If she didn’t care if Marcus lived or died then she could have stayed home and made any decisions from there. She must have wanted to see him for some reason.

The silence between them stretched out like the aforementioned motorway. It was Caroline who broke it.

“You’re an American?” she said.

“Yes.”

Caroline raised her eyebrows in a surprised look as though Abby had said she was from the planet Venus.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing for me. Marcus has never been a fan of Americans, that’s all. Finds them too brash, uncultured.”

Oh, so she was another one who used barbed comments to put other people down. Was every woman in Marcus’s life a total bitch? Well she’d met her match with Abby. She’d already had plenty of practice dealing with someone like this in Diana.

“I guess he made an exception for me,” Abby said sweetly.

Caroline nodded. “He’s always been a sucker for women with your assets,” she said as she looked Abby up and down.

Abby felt the urge to cover up her breasts and every other part of her body under the woman’s sarcastic gaze, but she resisted. “I was going to say he does like women who are kind and have a good sense of humour, but then he was married to you, so I guess it’s not those assets you’re referring to?”

Caroline deflected the comment with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ll lose your sense of humour once you’ve been with him a while. Trust me.”

“Why are you here, Caroline?”

“I told you, the police called me.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to come here. You haven’t seen him in eight years.”

“Maybe I wanted to see him once more, for old time’s sake.”

Abby didn’t believe that for a second. Maybe Caroline thought if she was still his next of kin she was still in his will. Maybe she was. Why had Marcus clung to this last remnant of their relationship?

Caroline stood up, held her hand out to Abby. “I’m tired. Do you have the key to his house? I might as well stay there tonight.”

Abby stood up as well. “You’re not staying there! Marcus wouldn’t want that.”

“He doesn’t care right now, darling. Look at him.”

“Well I care on his behalf. There’s a hotel next to the hospital. Cheap and cheerful. I’m sure you’ll find something that suits you there.” The comment was low, but Abby didn’t care. This woman was beyond the pale, her sense of entitlement completely uncalled for and unearned.

“Just give me the key, dear.”

“I don’t have it, and even if I did you can’t go there. The police are examining it and no one’s allowed in.” Abby didn’t know if the police were still there or if the house was out of bounds, but it was a good enough reason to keep Caroline away, plus she didn’t have a key, although she suspected Marcus’s was in the bag of his effects the nurse had given her and which was under the bed.

Caroline sighed. “Fine. I’ll find a hotel. Presumably the Radisson is still here. Marcus liked to take me there for surprise weekends when we were young, and athletic.” She raised one eyebrow at Abby and then walked towards the door.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” Abby mumbled as Caroline left. What a woman! Marcus had said she was funny when he’d first met her, but there was nothing amusing about the woman she’d met. She was bitter and mean. There was no way living with Marcus had made her like that, no matter how difficult his OCD might have been. She must have been like that all along but hidden it well, or she wasn’t happy with her current life. Was that it? Was she unhappy and she’d seen this as an opportunity to rekindle her relationship with Marcus? If so, it must have been a shock to her to find Abby sitting by his bed. Abby smiled at the thought. Hopefully Caroline would go tomorrow once she realised Marcus was recovering and they’d never have to see her again.

Abby sat in her chair and reached under the bed, pulling out the bag the nurse had given her. It contained Marcus’s clothes, his house keys and his wallet. Abby pocketed his keys so that Caroline couldn’t have them if she returned and claimed his belongings like she presumably had a right to do. She opened his wallet. There was nothing much in it except credit cards and a few bank notes. There was a receipt from Fortnum and Mason, whose bags Marcus had been carrying when he entered the house. The receipt showed he’d purchased a fillet of beef, mushrooms, vegetables, something called a Dundee Cake, a canister of ground coffee at the eye-watering price of £50 and a bottle of Australian pinot noir at £40. That wine had nearly given her a heart attack when she’d mistaken it for his blood. It had probably soaked into his lovely wood floor by now.

The final item on the list was a pair of 18ct white gold and diamond earrings and Abby gasped when she saw they’d cost him £1,400! Were those meant for her? He must have been planning a romantic evening, cooking her a nice meal, surprising her with a gift. Instead he’d ended up in the hospital. Tears welled, and Abby let them flow. She’d held it together since she’d found him, through the trauma of not knowing if he was alive or dead while she raced to the hospital, the police and the endless wait in the family room, not to mention the letter on his phone and his dammed ex-wife turning up. Now in the privacy of his room, with no one to see or hear her, she let it all out, cried long and loud. She was exhausted, and when she could cry no more she leant back in her chair, holding tightly to Marcus’s hand, and fell asleep.


	17. Keep Calm and Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby keeps vigil by Kane's bedside. Will he wake?

Abby was awakened by a nurse coming into the room to check on Marcus.

“Sorry to wake you,” said the nurse.

Abby sat up, rubbed her eyes, checked that she didn’t have drool all over her face. “How is he?”

“He’s making good progress. The pressure in his brain has decreased which indicates the swelling has reduced and that’s what we wanted to see. It’s up to the consultant, but it’s looking good.” He smiled at Abby, and her heart lifted. She felt lighter, hopeful.

“Thank you.”

The nurse adjusted Marcus’s tubes and monitors, smoothed his bedcover and then left. Abby checked her phone. It was eight o’clock, so she’d had a good sleep. She was aching from being in the chair all night, though. She stood and stretched her stiff limbs.

“Morning,” she said to Marcus, and she bent down to kiss his cheek. “You’re going to wake up later, and then you can tell me everything that happened. I’m going to get cleaned up but I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere.” She stroked his hair carefully, kissed him again, and then she picked up her bag and went to find a washroom.

When she returned she was half afraid she’d find Caroline in the room, sitting in Abby’s chair or ordering nurses around, but the room was empty apart from its silent, sleeping occupant. She settled back into her chair and prepared for another day of waiting. She downloaded a book to her e-reader and spent the next few hours reading, talking to Marcus, chatting to the nurses who came to check on him, and thinking, then reading some more to distract herself from thinking.

Sergeant Evans called to tell her they’d finished examining the house but wouldn’t tell her what they’d found, if anything. He’d been updated on Marcus’s progress by the hospital and would be around to interview him when the consultant approved it. By late afternoon there was no sign of Caroline and Abby was starting to wonder if she’d given up and gone home now that she was no longer needed.

In the early evening Doctor Martin returned.

“Good evening, Mrs Griffin,” she said with a smile.

“Abby, please.”

“Abby.”

“How’s Marcus?” Abby said, anxious for some proper news as all the nurses would tell her was that he was doing well.

“That’s why I’m here,” the doctor said, and Abby’s heart lurched into her throat. Was this going to be good news or bad? Good, surely. “The results from the pressure monitor have been encouraging, so we’re going to take Mr Kane back into surgery, do another CT scan and if that shows, as I think it will, that there is no further bleeding and no swelling of his brain then we will take out the monitor and bring him out of the coma.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news! Thank you so much, Doctor Martin.”

“It’s no problem. Mr Kane has done all the work himself. The orderlies will come in soon to take him to the operating theatre. He’ll be a couple of hours, so I suggest you take the opportunity to stretch your legs.”

The doctor left, and Abby went over to Marcus, took hold of his hand between hers and rubbed it gently. “Did you hear that? You’ve done amazingly well and they’re going to bring you round. You’re coming back to me!”

She waited until the orderlies wheeled Marcus to the theatre and then she went out to her car and renewed her parking ticket. Back in the hospital she bought a sandwich and ate it in the café before walking slowly back to Marcus’s room. She’d been gone an hour at the most, so she wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the room on her return, but there was someone sitting in her chair, a small woman with black hair and dark impenetrable eyes. Caroline. Abby’s heart sank and her blood rose at the same time. The woman had impeccable timing, arriving just before Marcus was due back.

“Caroline,” she said as she entered the room. Caroline remained seated.

“Abby.”

“I thought you must have gone back to Wilmslow,” said Abby with a fake smile.

“Thought, or hoped?”

“Both,” replied Abby, having decided she was done playing nice with people like Caroline and Diana, who thought nothing of being mean to others, but in Abby’s experience couldn’t take it when people fought back.

“Sorry to disappoint you, then,” replied Caroline with her own fake smile.

“Marcus will be back soon.” Abby moved further into the room, stood in front of Caroline so she was looking down on her.

“I know. The hospital rang to tell me he was being brought out of the coma.”

“Then there’s really no need for you to be here.”

Caroline adjusted her tight-fitting leather jacket, smoothed down her pencil skirt, crossed her legs. She fixed Abby with a challenging look. “I booked the hotel room for two nights, so I might as well stay.”

“Marcus isn’t going to want to see you when he wakes up,” said Abby.

“You’ve known him all of five minutes. You don’t know what he wants.”

“I know more than you, who abandoned him.”

Their voices were raised as they argued, and Abby didn’t notice at first that Marcus’s consultant, Doctor Martin, had entered the room until she coughed.

Before Abby could say anything the door swung open and Marcus was wheeled in by the same two orderlies, followed by a nurse. Caroline had to get up from the chair so the orderlies could put the bed in place. When they’d gone the nurse hooked Marcus up to a monitor. Abby was pleased to see his breathing tube was gone, and there was a fresh bandage covering the head wound. There was no sign of the pressure monitor.

“He’s breathing by himself!” she said to Doctor Martin, delighted that Marcus had passed this milestone.

“Yes. I’m very pleased with his progress and he should be awake soon.”

“What happens then?”

“We’ll assess him using the Glasgow Coma Scale, that’s checking his ability to answer basic questions, and if he scores well on that then we’ll keep him in and monitor him for another twenty-four hours, after that he should be able to go home.”

The doctor moved to Marcus’s side, checking the nurses had connected everything up properly. “We’ll be monitoring him from the nurses’ station,” she continued.

“Thank you for taking such great care of him,” said Abby as she reclaimed her seat at Marcus’s side before Caroline could steal it.

The doctor was about to leave the room and then she hesitated. “I couldn’t help overhearing your argument before, when I entered the room.”

“Sorry about that,” said Abby, annoyed that she’d let herself be goaded into raising her voice to Caroline.

“Mr Kane needs peace and quiet to effect his recovery. He mustn’t be upset or have any reason to raise his blood pressure or his anxiety. It would perhaps be best if only one of you were here when he wakes.”

With that she left, and Abby looked up at Caroline, who rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she said. “I will go. For now. I want to see him before I leave, so you’d better tell me when he wakes.” She handed a business card to Abby who took it reluctantly.

“I’ll tell him when he’s strong enough to hear the news,” she said.

“Just tell him. He can take it.”

She left, and Abby tucked the business card in her pocket, didn’t even want to look at it. She took Kane’s hand in hers and started talking to him, hoping that the sound of her voice would help him wake from the coma.

She was so involved in telling him about her night out with Jackson, which she hadn’t got around to before owing to Marcus Skyping her that night in just his socks, that she almost missed the signs that he was coming round. His hand moved reflexively where it was held in hers, and she stopped talking, looked down at their joined hands and then up at Marcus. His eyes were half-lidded, and he was looking at her. Abby smiled.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he mumbled, and he tried to swallow and grimaced. His throat must be sore from the intubation, and lack of lubrication.

“Don’t try to talk.” Abby placed a gentle kiss on his dry lips. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”

A nurse came in and stood in front of the monitors, examining them. “Good to see you’re awake, Mr Kane,” he said.

The door opened and Doctor Martin entered. She smiled again at Abby. “Can you give us a few minutes, please, Abby. I want to examine Mr Kane.”

“Okay.” Abby squeezed Marcus’s hand. “I won’t be long.” She left the doctor to her examinations and sat on a chair near the nurses’ station. She put her head in her hands and hot tears flowed into her palms. He was awake, and he’d only managed one word but she was pretty sure he’d recognised her. He’d returned the squeeze of her hand with faint pressure of his own. Abby wiped away her tears, got a drink of water from the cooler and gulped it down. Some twenty minutes later Doctor Martin came out of the room and approached Abby.

“He’s fine,” she said as Abby stood to greet her. “He knows who he is, he can respond to questions and he can open his eyes and focus them. I don’t want to check physical movement yet, we need to let him recover, but I’ll do that tomorrow. You should be able to take him home tomorrow night all being well.”

Abby shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“He knows that he’s in the hospital, but he doesn’t remember much about what happened. That’s normal, because it all probably happened very quickly. The most important thing is keep him calm and not upset him. I know you won’t, but…” She trailed off, but Abby knew she was referring to Caroline.

“I’ll look after him. Thank you doctor.”

“He’s allowed small sips of water but not too much. He’s still on a saline drip so we don’t have to subject him to the lovely hospital food around here.” She tutted, raised her eyebrows in a smirk, and then smiled at Abby.

Abby was smiling as she entered Marcus’s hospital room. He had been propped up in bed and he looked pale with dark circles under his eyes like bruises which she hadn’t really noticed until now when he was sitting up in the full glare of the artificial light. He didn’t return her smile, though. Abby started to worry as she approached him, took her seat and reached out for his hand. He turned slowly in the bed so he could look at her.

“Abby,” he said, his voice hoarse, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Hi. I just spoke to the doctor. You’re going to be fine.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” he said, grasping her hand and pulling her towards him. Abby’s heart leapt, and her stomach flipped making her feel sick.

“What? What do you mean? The doctor said you couldn’t remember what happened.”

“I didn’t want to tell her, not right now. There was someone in the house when I got home.”

“Oh my god!”

“Yes. I must have disturbed him.”

“It was a man?”

“I think so. I don’t know, I didn’t get a close look at him.” Marcus coughed, held his throat, and Abby poured some water into a cup, held it to his lips so he could take a sip.

“What happened?”

“I had some shopping, so I put the key in the lock, I’m pretty sure it was locked, and I opened the door and picked up my bags and went inside. I wasn’t really looking around. It was dark, and I felt on the wall for the light switch.”

Abby’s heart was thumping in her chest as she listened. Her hand was growing sweaty where it was grasped by Marcus.

“I saw a shape, movement, a figure in dark clothing, and then the next thing he was coming towards me, running, and I froze, I didn’t understand what was happening. The last thing I remember he pushed me out of his way and I was falling.”

“Marcus, oh my god, I can’t believe this. You were attacked!”

“Yes. He must have broken into my home. I’m sure I locked it before I left.” He looked at Abby with guilt on his face, and she squeezed his hand, stroked his cheek with her fingers.

“I’m sure you did, but it doesn’t matter if you didn’t. He had no right to be in your house. What was he doing there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have chance to think or process what was happening.”

“Can you remember anything about him?”

“Not much. He was slim maybe, but I don’t know how tall because he had his head down as he ran and he was wearing a hood. He was dressed all in black. He had black trainers, Nike maybe. That’s all I can remember.” His breathing was fast and shallow, and Abby was fearful his blood pressure was getting high. The monitor wasn’t beeping but she could see the waves and they seemed closer together.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. You’re not supposed to get stressed.”

“I had to tell you. When the doctor was questioning me, she asked if I knew where I was and I didn’t know although it looked like a hospital but then the more she talked and the more questions she asked I started to remember.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I wanted time to think. I wanted to tell you first.”

“Well, we need to tell the police at least. A detective came to see me. They’ve been over the house examining it for clues.”

“No,” Marcus said his voice still barely above a whisper but harsh, vehement.

“Marcus, we have to!”

“No, Abby, please. Not yet. I need to think.”

She wanted to ask him if this was about the extra letter, if he didn’t want to tell the police because he didn’t want them to know about that or any of what they were going through. She didn’t want to cause him more stress, not until she was sure he was making a proper recovery. She wasn’t about to tell him about Caroline either; that was the last thing he needed to hear.

“I’m glad you told me, but you need to rest now. We can talk about this again later.”

“Don’t go back to the house, Abby. Not without me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Abby said in a hushed whisper. “I’m staying right here with you.”

“Okay.” Marcus nodded, and then she saw his eyelids flutter, and he fought to keep them open but exhaustion won. He was asleep again within a minute.

Abby sat back in her chair. It wasn’t an accident. There’d been an intruder in his house, and he’d pushed Marcus over, caused him to hit his head on the table. He might not have intended to hurt him, but he hadn’t stayed around to check, hadn’t called the emergency services anonymously. Whoever their stalker was, because there was nothing else she could call this person now, this had gone beyond blackmail, they didn’t want to be caught. There was probably more to come. Abby closed her eyes, tried to push him out of her mind so she could rest and be focused for Marcus, but sleep was a long time coming.

Abby woke a couple of times in the night, cold and aching crumpled up as she was in her chair. Marcus was still asleep and looked peaceful, his heart rate rhythmically calm as she watched it on the monitor. When she next awoke someone was stroking her hair and she sat up to find she’d been sleeping with her head on Marcus’s thigh and he was smiling down at her, caressing her hair.

“Morning,” he said, and Abby sat up, and then she leaned over him, took his head in her hands and gave him a long, sweet kiss.

“Morning,” she said when she released him and sat back in her chair, smiling at him.

“Wow, that was some morning kiss!” Marcus said, his voice still hoarse and thick, his tongue clicking as it stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Let me get you some water.” Abby poured him a glass and helped him drink. “Not too much,” she said as he tried to gulp it down. “You have to take it slowly.”

“Thank you,” he replied, sounding more like himself. Abby set the glass down on the bedside table.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel fine. A bit stiff and sore, but otherwise okay.”

Abby frowned. “Is that some British way of saying you’re in complete agony?”

“No.” Marcus laughed hoarsely. “I do feel okay considering.”

“I’m glad. You had me worried for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus took her hand, stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“It’s not your fault. It’s whoever that guy was in your house.”

“Shush,” whispered Kane, and Abby turned to see the door open and Doctor Martin entering with a couple of nurses. The doctor smiled at them both.

“Morning, Abby, Mr Kane. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine, thank you. When can I go home?”

The doctor laughed. “Not yet. I have to subject you to a few more tests. If you do well then perhaps you can go home tonight as long as you’re not alone.”

Marcus looked at Abby and smiled. “I won’t be alone.”

Abby returned his smile, but inside she was worried. Marcus seemed relaxed and happy this morning, looking forward to going home, being with her, but she was going to have to burst his bubble soon. So many things she had to try and find a way to talk to him about: Caroline, the letter, the intruder, the police, whatever it was in his past he was keeping from her. She didn’t want to do it, but who knew what the blackmailer was going to do next? She had to be prepared, and to do that she needed the truth from him, no matter what it was.

Abby left the room while Doctor Martin put Marcus through some tests. She cleaned up in the washroom, brushed her hair which she only now noticed was sticking up in all directions. Why hadn’t Marcus told her? He probably didn’t care, was just happy to see her no matter what she looked like. She waited until the doctor had left and then went back into the room. Marcus was sitting up in bed. He was out of the hospital gown and in some of the clothes she’d brought for him. He looked much more like his old self.

“Thank you for bringing clean clothes for me,” he said, and he patted the bed, shuffled to one side to make room for Abby.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she said as she kicked off her boots and climbed up to sit next to him.

“What’s the worst that can happen? Is Doctor Martin going to shout at us?” He made a mock scared face and Abby laughed.

Marcus put his arm around her and drew her tight to him. “I missed you,” he said and he kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve only been gone a few minutes.”

“I mean this week, while I was away. I missed you.”

“We Skyped every day.”

“I know, but still.” Marcus looked down at her and she looked up at him. His smile turned to a frown. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But?”

Abby was trying not to let her anxiety show because this wasn’t the right time to broach any of the subjects she had to discuss with him, but she wasn’t someone who could lie or hide things easily. The air grew tense between them.

“Marcus. . .”

“Abby, you’re scaring me.” He was still hooked up to the heart monitor but Abby didn’t need to look at it to know the waves were bunched tight together. His hand was shaking where it gripped her shoulder.

“A lot happened while you were unconscious.” This really wasn’t the time, he was getting upset and she wasn’t supposed to be getting him worked up, but it was too late now. He knew something was wrong.

“Such as?”

Before Abby could answer, the door burst open and a now-familiar figure entered the room like a bull charging a gate.

“What the fuck?” said Marcus incredulously.

“Such as Caroline is here,” said Abby with a sigh, and Marcus looked at her in shock. He gripped her shoulder even tighter. It was painful, but Abby ignored it.

“Hello, Marcus,” Caroline said.

Marcus didn’t respond, was still looking at Abby. “What’s she doing here?” he whispered, his voice catching at the end.

“The police called me,” said Caroline. “Told me you were at death’s door.”

“She’s still your next of kin,” said Abby, and she watched Marcus’s face closely as the news registered. He seemed shocked.

“What?”

“Guess you couldn’t quite let go of me, Marcus.” Caroline pulled up another chair and sat at the end of the bed.

Marcus’s arm slipped from around Abby’s shoulder and fell between them. He grasped her hand instead, linked his fingers through hers. At last he turned to look at Caroline.

“I don’t want you here.”

“That’s not very friendly when I’ve been here for two days worrying about you.”

“Ha!” said Abby, the word coming out involuntarily.

Caroline’s cool gaze rested on Abby, then swept to Marcus without comment.

“I think you should leave.” Marcus was gripping Abby’s hand so hard her fingers were going numb. She glanced at the heart monitor; the waves were peaking higher and were bunched together. The sight worried her because it meant his blood pressure was rising and that wasn’t good for him.

“I’m not going until I’ve spoken to you about something,” Caroline replied. “In private.” She glanced at Abby then back at Marcus.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I’m concerned about you, falling at home.” She emphasised the word ‘falling’, and Abby grew even more worried. What was she implying? “Have the police investigated your accident, have they interviewed everyone involved?” Caroline looked pointedly at Abby who sat up straighter.

“What are you saying?” Abby’s tone was indignant. Who did Caroline think she was turning up here, upsetting Marcus, insinuating that Abby was abusing him!

“Abby.” Marcus glanced at Abby, gave her an almost imperceptible nod of the head as though to say it’s okay, I’ve got this. He turned back to Caroline. “I’m not going to play your games. I’ve asked you to leave, and I’m not going to ask you again.”

He sounded calm to Abby, but the monitor was betraying his real feelings. Caroline didn’t seem to have noticed. She crossed her arms in a defiant gesture, but before anyone could do or say anything else the door opened, and Doctor Martin walked in with a frown on her face.

“What’s going on in here?”

There was silence. Marcus seemed to want to deal with Caroline himself and Abby didn’t want to interfere on his behalf. Caroline remained in her seat, staring at Marcus.

“I told you both yesterday that Mr Kane wasn’t to be upset while he’s recovering.” She pointed to the door. “Out!” she said, looking at Abby and Caroline. Abby started to get up, but Marcus held on to her.

“Not Abby,” he said.

“Both of them. Now. I want to talk to you in private.”

Abby got off the bed and walked past Caroline without looking at her. A moment later and the woman joined her outside the hospital room. Abby didn’t look at her, and Caroline didn’t speak. They stood together in a tense silence.

After five minutes that felt like an eternity, Doctor Martin came out of Marcus’s room, shutting the door behind her.

“Your behaviour isn’t helping Mr Kane recover,” she said, giving Abby and Caroline an icy blue stare. “As Mr Kane is no longer in any danger your position as next of kin is irrelevant, and he has requested that you leave,” she said addressing Caroline. “As he is still in my care, and as I am concerned for his health, I must ask that you do as he wishes. I’m sure if Mr Kane wants to see you he will let you know.”

Caroline scooped up her bag with a sigh. “Fine. I would not wish to upset his delicate sensibilities. I still need to speak to him, so I’ll be back,” she said, addressing the last part to Abby.

Fuck off, Abby said in her head, as she smiled sweetly at Caroline. She watched as the woman headed down the corridor, and then she turned to go back into Marcus’s room, but Doctor Martin put her hand on her arm to stop her.

“I’m giving you the same warning,” she said. “I want Mr Kane to remain calm for the rest of his time in this hospital. I can see everything that is happening with his vitals, and if I don’t like what I see, you’ll be gone as well.” She looked pointedly at Abby, and then headed to the nurse’s station, leaving Abby feeling like a scolded schoolchild. She took a deep breath to try and centre herself, and then she opened the door with a smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“What’s going on, Abby?” Marcus said, his face creased with worry.

“I’m under strict instruction to keep you calm,” she said, as she resumed her position on the bed next to him.

“How can I be calm when I don’t know what is happening. I don’t understand what’s going on. When did Caroline get here? What’s she doing here?”

Abby took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips and kissed it. “The police informed her about your accident as next of kin and she thought she might have some decisions to make so she came to see you.” Abby left out all her horrible conversations with Caroline and her growing disquiet that the woman was here for another, more secretive purpose. It wouldn’t do Marcus any good to start worrying about that. “I will tell you everything when you get home, but the most important thing is to get you home, and that won’t happen if the doctor throws me out and won’t let me look after you. You need to try and put it out of your mind.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

“Well, let’s talk about something else.” A tense silence followed, because there was really only one thing Marcus wanted to talk about and there were myriad things Abby wanted to say but couldn’t. what did that leave?

Abby wracked her brain for a subject to discuss. “I noticed while I was stepping over your unconscious body that you’d been to that posh London store, Fortnum’s,” said Abby, not sure if this topic would distract him or make him more anxious.

Marcus smiled ruefully. “Ah, yes. You saw that did you?”

“I couldn’t help it; the contents of the bags were all over the floor. Were you planning something?”

“Perhaps.” Marcus looked at her with a sly smile.

“What was it?”

“The conference finished early, so I took advantage and did a little grocery shopping. I thought I would cook you a surprise meal.” He lay back against the pillow and held his arm out so Abby could curl into him. She put her head on his chest, felt the beating of his heart, slower now, thankfully.

“What were you going to cook?”

“Beef Wellington.”

“I don’t think I’ve had that before.”

“It’s prime beef covered in a mushroom paté and a crêpe, wrapped in pastry and baked. It’s delicious.”

“That sounds amazing. What’s a Dundee Cake?”

“A Scottish delicacy. A fruit cake basically, with almonds on the top. Not exactly fancy, but I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

“I’d like to try that. We’ll have to visit Scotland one day,” said Abby.

“Well, I’d been thinking about that,” said Marcus, his rough voice rumbling in her ear.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. I thought, maybe, if you wanted to. Well, the campaign will be over soon one way or another, and then it’s Christmas. I’m due some time off, so...”

“Just get to it, Marcus.” Abby laughed, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Sorry. I thought maybe it would be nice to spend Christmas up there, or the New Year. If you don’t have any other plans.”

Abby raised her head so she could look at him. “Really?”

He smiled down at her. “Yes. We could go to Loch Lomond, get a cottage right on the lake, on the far side, where it’s less busy.”

“I’d love that,” said Abby.

“Would you?”

“Yes, of course. Could we visit Glasgow as well? I’d like to see where you grew up.”

“That’s not very interesting, but if you want to we could.”

“Do you still have relatives there?” Abby had figured Marcus’s parents must be dead if Caroline was his next of kin, but this was a good opportunity to find out, make sure there was on one else she should have called about the accident.

“An aunt, some cousins. Nobody I keep in touch with.”

“Your mum and dad are passed then?”

“My dad a long time ago, my mum a couple of years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s life. I’m getting old.” He chuckled, and his chest heaved beneath Abby’s head. “What about you? Is your Disney-loving mum still around?”

Abby was impressed he’d remembered that detail. “She’s still around, I presume.”

“Why you presume?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a while. She doesn’t answer my calls or texts very often.”

Marcus shifted so he could look at Abby properly. “Why not?”

“She’s always been like that. She’s flaky.”

“Is she?”

Abby nodded. “She’s an old hippy, lives life to her own beat. I think she forgets she has me sometimes.”

“Where did someone like you come from then? Your father?”

“Someone like me?”

“Yes, you know, hard-working and productive.”

Abby smiled at his description of her. Trust Marcus to find those attributes attractive. “My father was an old hippy too. They were made for each other, but nothing ever got done around the house, so I guess that’s how I became someone like me. I brought myself up.”

“I had no idea.” Marcus rubbed Abby’s shoulder as though he was commiserating with her on her sad childhood.

“Why would you? It’s not like they didn’t love me; they just never really adjusted themselves to being parents. I think I was a mistake.” Abby laughed.

“I’m glad they made that mistake,” Marcus said, and Abby smiled into his chest. “My parents were the opposite. Working-class, strait-laced Catholics. My childhood was all about doing the right thing, being the best you can be, making something of yourself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” said Abby. She felt Marcus shrug.

“No, but it doesn’t make for a fun-loving person, does it?”

“You’re fun-loving.” Abby felt Marcus’s soft laugh as his breath tickled her hair.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Abby sat up, gave Marcus a penetrating look. “We’ve had a lot of fun together. A lot!”

He smiled and nodded but Abby could tell he thought she was humouring him. Goddamn bloody Caroline! Was this her doing? Marcus had seen her for two minutes and he was already questioning himself. She glanced at his heart monitor. His heart rate was slightly elevated but nowhere near as much as earlier. Still, she couldn’t risk letting him disappear down that rabbit hole. Time to distract him.

She settled further down the bed, and Marcus followed so that they were lying face to face, curled up together. “We’re going to have fun in Scotland, yeah? What are we going to do?”

“There’s lots of walking in the hills.”

“Awesome.”

“Yes, and we could get a boat on the loch, if it’s not too cold.” Marcus brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s eyes.

“I’d love that. I haven’t really been out into the countryside properly since I came to Britain, apart from at your place.”

“It’s really beautiful, Abby. The skies at night are so dark, much darker than here. There are so many stars the sky feels heavy, you know, like it presses down on you. That sounds horrible the way I’m describing it but it’s not it’s humbling and inspiring. You feel anchored and at the same time completely insignificant.”

“It doesn’t sound horrible. You’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Am I?” He looked at her in that same way, like she was teasing him or lying to him.

“Yes. Look.” Abby showed him her arm, the raised bumps his words had caused. Marcus stroked it, and Abby closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his touch when she’d been so worried she’d never have that again. “Will there be snow?” she whispered.

“Possibly,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh, I hope so. I’d love a white Christmas.”

“It will be cold if there is.”

“Then we can have a fire.”

“Yes.”

“And snuggle up in front of it.”

“Definitely.” Marcus was running his hand through her hair, his fingers brushing her scalp making her tingle.

“And make love.”

“All the time.” He kissed her forehead.

“We don’t really need to walk or boat.” Abby put her hand to his face, stroked his cheek.

“No.” Marcus’s lips moved lower. He pressed gentle kisses to her closed eyelids, and the bridge of her nose.

“Or leave the cottage.”

“Or the bed,” he whispered.

“No.” Abby sighed as Marcus captured her lips with his. They drew as close as they could to each other, and the kiss deepened.

“Ahem!”

The voice made Abby and Marcus jump apart. They both turned to look at the door. Doctor Martin was standing with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. Abby felt guilty, and then worried that she was going to get told off for getting Marcus excited, or worse, asked to leave.

“Mr Kane’s heart rate has risen significantly, so I came to see what was causing it.”

“Sorry,” said Abby. “It was my fault.”

“I’m sure he played his part.” The doctor’s cheeks reddened at her own remarks.

“Don’t make Abby leave, Doctor,” said Marcus. “We’ll behave.”

Doctor Martin smiled. “That’s what I’m here about as well, actually. You can both leave.”

“Are you letting me go home?”

“Yes, in a couple of hours, but I have a big long list of dos and don’ts, and one of them is no doing what you looked like you were going to start doing before I walked in.”

Abby blushed, because what the doctor said was true. She’d been so caught up in being near Marcus, enjoying his touch like she always did, she’d forgotten where they were. She’d also forgotten all the other things that were on her mind, which was good she supposed, for now.

“How long for?” said Marcus, and Abby hit him on the arm.

“Marcus!”

“A week. At least.”

“Damn!” Marcus said, and Abby rolled her eyes at Doctor Martin.

“Forgive him, Doctor. He’s had a bang on the head you know. It’s not his fault.”

“Yes, he has had a bang on the head and therefore it’s important you listen to what I have to say and do it.” She glared at them both, but her lips were turned up in a smile.

They listened while Doctor Martin gave her instructions, and Abby went to the pharmacy to pick up Marcus’s medication while he had a final check-up and got properly dressed. Two hours later Marcus was wheeled to Abby’s car and she stowed all their bags in the boot while the orderly helped him into the passenger seat.

“Are you ready to go home?” Abby said as she got behind the wheel.

Marcus put his hand on hers where it gripped the gear stick. “Yes. Just try not to kill me in this thing, will you.”

“Cheeky bugger!” said Abby, in an approximation of a Lancashire accent, and she put the car in gear and headed for home, a huge smile on her face.


	18. One Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby takes Marcus home, and some secrets are revealed.

It was pitch black when Abby pulled up outside Marcus’s home after leaving the hospital, parking next to his Aston Martin. They sat in the car for a few moments.

“It might be best if I go in first,” said Abby. “I don’t know what kind of mess the police have made, or if they’ve cleared up after the accident.”

“You’re not going in there alone, Abby. No way.”

Abby sighed. “Okay, we’ll go in together. Are you sure you’re up for this? We could go to my place if you prefer.”

“I’m not being pushed out of my own home.”

Abby nodded. “Okay.” She helped Marcus out of the car and they walked slowly to the front door. She still had his keys in her pocket so she put them in the lock and opened the door. They both paused for a moment on the threshold while they steeled themselves for whatever was inside, and then Abby helped Marcus up the step. She felt on the wall for the light switch and flicked it on like she had on Friday night. A sick feeling washed over her as the light illuminated the chaos on the floor, exactly as she had first seen it. She glanced around. The police didn’t seem to have made much mess other than leaving fingerprint powder over every surface.

“Let’s get you on the sofa and then I’ll clear up.”

“I can help,” said Marcus.

“No. Remember what Doctor Martin said. You have to rest.” She got Marcus settled on the sofa, took off his boots and made him lie down with his feet up, ignoring his protestations. She covered him with a blanket. “How about a cup of tea?”

“That would be nice.”

Abby kissed his forehead, then she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. While she waited for it to boil she picked up the spilt groceries from the floor. The vegetables looked okay, but she figured Marcus wouldn’t want to eat them after they’d sat on the floor all weekend. The beef was starting to spoil, and the mushrooms were crushed. She picked it all up and put it in a plastic bin bag. The coffee tin was dented but otherwise okay and she placed that in the cupboard where he kept his tea. There was no sign of the earrings. The cake was shrink-wrapped within a cardboard box and looked unharmed. She showed it to Marcus.

“Do you want a slice of this?”

He pulled a face and grimaced. “Does it look okay?”

“It’s fine. None the worse for wear.”

“Okay,” he said, although he didn’t sound sure.

Abby poured water into the teapot and left it to infuse the way he liked it while she got a dustpan and brush and swept up the broken glass. There was nothing to be done about the wine which had soaked into the wooden floor as she had thought it would. She took Marcus his tea and slice of cake and sat down on the adjacent sofa.

“Does it feel good to be home?”

“Yes, although...” he trailed off.

“You feel violated?”

Marcus nodded. “A bit.”

“I know, but we’re here now. We’re reclaiming it, okay?”

“Okay.” He took a careful sip of his tea. “Did the wine survive?”

“Erm, no, sorry. The bottle broke and it’s soaked into the floor. There’s a stain I’m afraid.”

Marcus craned his neck to look at the spot which was just visible from his position on the sofa.

“I’ll have to call the carpenter to fix it.” He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for his phone but couldn’t find it. Abby still had it, but he didn’t know that.

“I have your phone,” she said. “To protect it.”

“Can you give it to me?”

“No. I’ll call the carpenter tomorrow.”

“I’m capable of using the phone, Abby.”

“No, you’re going to rest for at least a day or two, and I’m going to look after you.”

“But…”

“No buts, no argument. We’re going to play doctor and patient. You can call me Doctor Griffin from now on.”

“Doctor Griffin?” He smirked. “I like the sound of that. Are you going to examine me later, Doctor Griffin?”

“No! You heard what Doctor Martin said. None of that for a week.”

“I don’t think I can last that long.”

“You’ll have to try. Now eat some cake.” Abby watched him grimace as he forced a fork full of cake towards his mouth. It hovered there while he worked up the courage to eat something that had sat on the floor for three days, even though it was more protected than the food he’d picked up from the store and would have been happy to eat.

She ate some of her own slice while he watched her. “It’s really nice,” she said as she forked another piece in. “Fruity.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmm,” she replied with her mouth full. “Pity that wine has gone.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Marcus said as he put the cake into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before sticking his fork back into the slice for another piece. “It was the closest I could get to that Californian stuff you love.”

“Stuff! You mean fine wine.”

“If you say so.” He grinned as he chewed on the cake. Then he paused and frowned. “Oh!”

“What? What’s the matter?” Abby looked at him, trying to discern if he was in pain.

“Was there anything else in the bags?”

Oh, he meant the earrings. She couldn’t let on that she knew what he was talking about because then he would know she’d rummaged through his wallet and he might not like that. “No,” she said. “Just the groceries, some coffee and the wine.”

“Damn.”

“What’s up?”

“Oh, wait. Do you have the clothes I was wearing?”

“Yes, they’re in a bag the hospital gave me.”

“Can you get them?”

Abby went to the laundry room where she’d dumped the bags meaning to put their contents in the washing machine later. She picked up the plastic hospital bag, took it back to Marcus.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He pulled out his suit pants and rummaged around in the pocket, bringing out a small black box. “Thank God.”

“What is it?” said Abby even though she knew full well.

“It’s just something I got while I was in London. I wanted to surprise you on Friday night, but I suppose that didn’t work out.”

“Well you surprised me,” said Abby with a smile.

“Yes, but not in the way that I wanted. It’s not how I was going to give them to you, but, well...” Marcus held the box out to Abby and she took it.

She was excited and a little nervous to see what he’d got her; even though she’d known there was a gift, she didn’t know what they looked like, what his taste was, whether it would match hers. This was a big moment in their relationship, the first gift. She opened the lid of the box to reveal the earrings. They were small white-gold hoops studded with diamonds and with a neat square-cut diamond hanging from each one. They were beautiful: classic and understated but with enough sparkle to catch the eye. Abby felt a sob catch in her throat at how perfect they were, how well he knew her already.

“Do you like them?” said Marcus after a moment when she hadn’t spoken.

Abby swallowed, took a breath. “They’re beautiful. Really beautiful. Thank you.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I love you,” said Marcus in a soft voice, taking Abby completely by surprise. Fuck! Her heart leapt into her throat and tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

Abby wiped a tear from her eye and nodded.

“We shouldn’t waste time,” Marcus continued. “I was thinking that when I was waiting for you to wake up this morning. I want to be with you, but I know it’s hard. I’ll wait for you.”

Abby swallowed because her throat was tight. “Okay. I have to. Give me a minute.” Abby somehow got the words out and then she got up and went into the bathroom down the hall because she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She opened the window, let the cool night air in. She should be able to say it back to him, because she felt it too. She wanted to say it back, but the words got stuck. They just wouldn’t come out. Now she’d completely embarrassed herself by running away from him like an awkward teenager. What was wrong with her? She didn’t doubt his feelings for her; it had been obvious for some time that he loved her and wanted to tell her. He would have done it already if she hadn’t stopped him.

It was natural he’d want to tell her when he’d recovered from an accident, when he’d thought he could have lost everything, but it didn’t feel like the right time for her. She didn’t want to be forced into it because he’d said it first, or because she was grateful he was still alive. She was, of course, and maybe she was making excuses, it was entirely possible, but the time wasn’t right. She couldn’t leave him hanging, though, after he’d told her his deepest feelings. It was hard for him too, after Caroline. Even though she was an old woman of forty, this was an entirely new experience for Abby. She’d only been in love once before and she’d met him when she was young and had no life experience. They’d done everything in a rush, dating, sleeping together, declaring their feelings, marrying. It had been easy back then but look how that had all turned out. No one else had ever told her they’d loved her. God, this was pathetic! Woman up! Grow a vagina or whatever it was they said these days. She wiped her tears away, shut the window and went back into the living room.

Marcus was sitting upright on the sofa, fiddling with the earrings. He looked up as she crossed the room and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Move up.” Abby gestured for him to move along the sofa so she could sit next to him. She pulled the blanket over their knees. “We’re like two geriatrics,” she said.

“Speak for yourself,” said Marcus with a grin.

“Thank you for telling me what you did,” said Abby. “It means a lot to me. More than I can say.”

Marcus took her hand in his. “I know. It’s okay.”

“I’ll treasure this moment always.”

“So will I.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t spoiled it for you?”

“God, no.” He shook his head and smiled. “This is why I love you. All this, everything about you.”

Oh God. Tears were falling again, she was helpless to stop them. She’d turned into an emotional wreck since she’d started dating Marcus Kane. Who would have thought it? “I think it’s time for a sad movie.”

“I think so. What do you want this time?”

“Love Story.”

“Love Story? You might as well just kill me now. Put me out of my misery before it begins.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is, Abby. It is.”

“Well what, then?”

Marcus closed his eyes, let out an exaggerated sigh. He was doing it for her benefit, she knew, to distract her, make her laugh. “Maybe I’ll be lucky and they won’t have it available.” He flicked on the TV, searched through Prime Movies. “Damn!” he said.

“You’re out of luck, mister.”

“I guess I am.”

He pressed play on the movie and they settled into their usual watching position, Marcus with his arm around her, Abby leaning into him, her feet curled up on the sofa. It felt nice. It felt like something she could do for the rest of her life. She only had to tell him. It was just a matter of when.

\---

For three days Abby took care of Marcus, feeding him from the frozen food and leftovers he had in his capacious freezer, giving him his medications when they were due, checking his head wound, cleaning it and dressing it like the doctor had shown her. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, and it was healing nicely after five days. The procedure hadn’t been too invasive and they’d only shaved a small amount of hair which was already growing back. That was her biggest problem, keeping his hair out of the wound. It found its way under the sticky bandages no matter what she did, and she didn’t want strands of it to fuse to the scab as it healed.

His hair was unruly as he’d stopped gelling it, and he hadn’t shaved since the accident. His stubble was growing long, and it prickled her when she kissed him. She wasn’t sure why he wasn’t shaving, whether he had some underlying depression or post-traumatic stress or whether he was simply enjoying not having to be neat all the time. Maybe it was freeing for him. She’d thought about asking him, but he was calm and relaxed and she’d decided not to do or say anything that could disturb the equilibrium they’d created. There would be plenty to upset him soon when she had to broach the letters and Caroline. For now they were trundling along in a happy state of denial.

Abby had cleaned the house from top to bottom, wiping the fingerprint powder off the surfaces, cleaning the coffee table and its sticky reminder of that night. The carpenter had come and replaced the stained floorboards. It was amazing how quickly you could get someone to come out when you had a lot of money. The house was looking good; you wouldn’t know anything bad had happened. The police had been to interview Marcus but it was a tick-box exercise. They hadn’t found anything untoward in their search of the house, and Marcus stuck to his story that he’d fallen. There was nothing left for them to do, and they had returned Abby’s keys and closed the case.

She’d taken Tuesday off from the prison but Marcus had told her to go to work on Thursday as he was feeling stronger and he wanted to get on with some campaign work. She didn’t want to leave him alone, but he’d assured her he would be fine and that he’d lock the door and not answer it even if the Queen turned up on the doorstep. She drove reluctantly to the prison, and the first person she saw was Jackson, who approached her with a concerned look on his face.

“How’s Governor Kane?” he said. “Everyone’s been so worried.”

“He’s fine, thank you, Jackson. Recovering well.”

“What happened?” said Jackson as they walked down the hallway to the therapy room. “No one seems to know.”

“He slipped and fell. Silly really, how easy it is to do.”

“But he’s on the mend?”

“Yes.”

Jackson nodded. “Good. Well, if there’s anything I can do please let me know.”

Abby put her hand on his arm. “That’s kind of you, but we’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay to accept help, you know.”

“I know.” She smiled at Jackson and then opened the door to her room. “We’ll go out again soon, when Marcus is better.”

She shut the door on the young doctor and rested against it for a moment. It wasn’t that she wanted to shut him out, or anybody; she didn’t want to involve them in the wider problem. No one else could get hurt because of them.

It felt like a lifetime since she had last been in this room, but it was only a week. The easels and paintings had already been set up, which was unusual. She usually had to do that. The door pushed against her as someone tried to get in, and Abby moved out of the way. It was Murphy and his guard.

“Afternoon, Abby,” he said, sauntering in with his hands in his pockets.

“John. Have you done this?”

“Yup. Me and my minder came down earlier and got it ready for you.”

“Thank you!”

Murphy shrugged.

“Am I okay to leave, Mrs Griffin?” said the guard, and Abby nodded. She was alone with Murphy. Abby glanced at her watch. There were still five minutes before the other prisoners were due to arrive.

“How have you been, John?”

“You know me. Good.”

“Up to no good, you mean.” Abby smiled, and Murphy shrugged again.

“I’m innocent me, you know.”

Abby looked closely at him, trying to discern if he was joking. “Are you?” she said.

“Yup.” His gaze was naked, challenging.

“Is this that British humour where you say one thing and mean another? Do you mean you’re not really innocent?”

“No, I mean I’m innocent. I was fitted up. I never did what I’m in here for.”

Abby was surprised at his words, unsure where this confession was coming from. “Isn’t that what everyone says?”

Murphy shrugged again. “Just telling you the truth.”

“Does Governor Kane know about this?”

“He doesn’t care about me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Abby, although she remembered Marcus’s distaste at the thought of her working with Murphy, his anger at the boy for telling her he was a cheat and a liar.

“You’re so naïve it’s kind of cute,” said Murphy with a lop-sided grin.

“I’m sure Governor Kane would help you if he knew the facts.”

Murphy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. How is the Governor anyway?”

“He’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

Murphy nodded. “So he wasn’t bothered about what’s in the paper then?”

Abby’s blood ran cold. “What’s in the paper?”

Murphy’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and he’d just found out Santa had been. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve been busy. We haven’t had time to look at the paper. What does it say?” Abby tried to look only mildly interested but inside she was cold, and her hands were shaking as she rearranged the paints for something to do. Surely the photo of them hadn’t been leaked? She would have heard about it. Someone would have said. Wouldn’t they?

Murphy sniffed. “Something about Governor Kane making underhand payments to his mistress and putting her on the payroll at the prison. I think you’re the mistress, though the story doesn’t name you.” He looked at her with a kind of half smirk, half frown.

Abby was so surprised she couldn’t speak at first. She’d been certain Murphy was going to tell her that her and Marcus’s semi-naked tryst was all over the front page of the Arkchester Times. “What?” she stuttered.

“It’s a half-arsed story. Anyone can tell that,” said Murphy, his smirk disappearing.

“I’m not Governor Kane’s mistress! And I’m on the payroll legitimately. I work here!” She had forgotten she was talking to a prisoner, to Murphy of all people, so incensed she was at this news.

“Don’t be mad with me!” said Murphy. “I’m just giving you the skinny. It’s Jaha you should be angry with.”

“Jaha? What’s he got to do with it?”

“I don’t know, but he was quoted in the article, expressing his outrage at the abuse of public funds. You know what that arsehole’s like.”

Abby shook her head in disbelief. Jaha was talking to the paper about her and Marcus, telling them lies, slandering them? Why? Of course, she knew why. There were several reasons. He wanted to sabotage Marcus’s political career, stop him becoming Mayor. And he was jealous, always had been. The door opened and the prisoners filed in. Abby plastered a smile to her face and got to work, trying to put Murphy’s news behind her for the time being. She glanced at him. He was talking to one of the prisoners, but she didn’t think it was about her or Marcus. They were discussing the painting. He must have felt her gaze because he looked up. He gave her a half smile, and then went back to his conversation. Abby looked at her watch. Two hours before she could leave, and then she had to go to her place to get clean clothes and to the store for supplies. It would be five o’clock at least before she got home to Marcus. She considered texting him, then decided this news was better given face to face, if he didn’t know already.

\---

“Jaha said that?” said an incredulous Marcus as he helped Abby empty the grocery bags.

“According to Murphy. I haven’t had chance to see if the article’s in the online edition.”

“I’ll look it up when we’ve finished with this.”

“Have you had any phone calls from the prison?”

“No, but I’ve had my phone switched off on doctor’s orders.”

“Go and check the internet now. I’ll finish up here and then I’ll start dinner.”

“I’ll make dinner tonight,” said Marcus as he put vegetables in the crisper.

“It’s okay.”

“No, you’ve worked hard enough. Don’t argue with me, Doctor Griffin.”

“Okay.” Abby kissed him, then carried on unloading the bags while Marcus went into his office to look up the article. She was glad he was back to his old self, but also apprehensive, because that meant she had to talk to him, and this article gave her the perfect opportunity. There was no hiding from it any longer.

Marcus returned a few minutes later with a piece of paper in his hand. He showed her a print-out of the article in the Arkchester Times.

_Prison Governor in Payroll Scandal_

_Lancaster Prison Governor and local Councillor Marcus Kane has today been accused of financial irregularities at the prison. The allegations refer to payments made to a woman thought to be his mistress for unauthorised work alleged to have been undertaken on his behalf. Governor Kane allegedly made personal payments to the unnamed woman before adding her to the payroll where she remains. Unnamed sources claim the arrangement has been in place for some months, although it is unclear what services the woman is providing for the Governor._

_Governor Kane, 43 and originally from Scotland, was recently admitted to the Royal Lancaster Infirmary with head injuries after an incident at his home. The hospital has refused to release any information on his condition, although it is believed he left their care Sunday evening in the company of an unidentified woman. It is not known if this is the same woman to whom he has been making the alleged payments._

_Mayor of Arkchester, The Right Honourable Thelonious Jaha, has commented on the allegations. “Allegations of financial impropriety on the part of Governor Kane should be investigated with the utmost urgency. This is a man who has sworn to uphold the law and he must be held to the highest standards.”_

_Neither Lancaster Prison nor Governor Kane were available for comment._

Abby looked at him in horror when she’d finished reading. “What on earth?”

“This is bollocks!” said Marcus, his face red with anger. “Where have they got this information? How can I have a mistress when I’m not married? Alleged this, alleged that! They think they can get away with printing anything!”

“Try to keep calm,” said Abby, worried about his blood pressure.

“How can I keep calm? Look at what they’ve written! ‘ _It is unclear what services the woman is providing for the Governor._ ’ They’re making you sound like a prostitute, like I’m paying you for sexual services!”

There was little Abby could say to soothe him because that was obviously the intention of the paper, or the unnamed source. “This is Jaha’s doing,” she said. “It can’t be a coincidence that he’s quoted. He’s probably the source.”

Marcus paced the small kitchen area, the paper grasped in one hand, the other hand running through his hair. “It’s no secret you’re on the payroll. I don’t understand how this is even an allegation.” He read the article again. “They’re alleging personal payments. Do you think they mean the cheque I gave you?”

“They could just be making it up,” said Abby. A memory was trying to surface at the back of her mind, a conversation she’d had, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was.

Marcus shook his head. “They must be. No one knows about that.”

The memory surfaced then, forced its way to the front of Abby’s mind. A conversation in the school between her, Diana and Jaha. “Oh!” she said as it all became clear.

“What?” said Marcus, staring at her with a deep frown.

“A few months ago I was having lunch in the cafeteria at the school when Jaha and Diana came over. Jaha mentioned my work at the prison, knew I was on the payroll. Diana was surprised. She said she thought I was working there voluntarily.”

“When was this again?”

“When I first stayed over here, when you got the first letter. At the beginning of that week I think. Diana said you could afford to pay me out of your own money.”

“What did you say?”

“I think I said that would be unethical, but you had already paid me out of your own money. I gave it to the Prison Reform Trust like you said. Could they have known? How?”

“I don’t see how they could unless they had access to our bank records.”

“You don’t think...?” Abby trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought that had just surfaced. It was too awful.

“What?”

“The person who was here, the intruder. Did he get into your computer somehow?”

Marcus looked confused. “You said they knew about this months ago.”

“They may have speculated months ago. Then they got proof.”

“They’d have to know my password to access the computer.”

“Marcus your password is easy. It’s your surname and your date of birth. Anyone could guess it with some basic information about you.”

A surprised look spread across his face, making his eyes look huge. “How do you know that?”

“You typed it in front of me when you were showing me the photo you took on the moors.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Well, they’d have to access my bank account as well.”

“Is it the same password?” He didn’t answer, so Abby knew that it was. “You can’t have the same password for everything, Marcus.”

“I don’t,” he said sullenly.

“Your phone pin is your date of birth.” Abby said that without thinking, and she went cold when she saw Marcus’s look of shock.

“You’ve accessed my phone?”

“I was looking for an emergency contact. I figured it would be your pin and it was.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked sheepish. “I didn’t realise I was so predictable.”

“You know what this means, though?”

“What?”

“The intruder and Jaha must be linked!”

Marcus took a deep breath. He put the paper down on the kitchen island, rested his hands on the surface. He was shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not. I can’t believe it’s Jaha.”

“Why not? Because you’ve known him a long time? He’s written slanderous things about you before in his leaflets. He doesn’t want you to be Mayor, Marcus. He’s sabotaging you. He’s probably behind the letters as well. It’s all connected.” Abby was convinced this was the most logical explanation for everything they had been through, and she couldn’t understand why Marcus was clinging to his trust in Jaha.

“Abby, it’s local politics. Yes, I want to be mayor and so does Jaha, but it’s not worth destroying each other over.”

“Not to you maybe. But what about to him?”

“Not to him either. He wouldn’t do this to me.”

Abby was growing exasperated with his refusal to even contemplate Jaha’s involvement. “How can you be so sure? He’s been angry with you for a long time, for getting the software money, for stealing his girl, probably for being more handsome and successful than he is. He wants justice.”

Marcus looked up from staring at the kitchen counter, a quizzical look on his face. “What do you mean he wants justice?”

This was the time; it was now or never. She felt sick because once she’d told him that she knew about the extra letter there was no going back. She didn’t know where it was going to lead or what it would mean for their relationship, but they couldn’t go on like this. It was time to force Marcus’s hand, find out the truth. She stood straight, looked Marcus in the eye.

“I know about the other letter.”

Marcus paled. “What other letter?”

“The one you got but didn’t tell me about. ‘I will have justice’. Justice for what, Marcus? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Marcus curled his fingers into fists where they rested on the counter. “How do you know about that?” he said in a quiet voice.

“I found it in your phone, in your gallery.”

“You were looking in my gallery? I thought you were looking for an emergency contact?”

“I was, but then I thought there might be another clue to who had hurt you if anyone had, so I looked in your album. And there _was_ another clue, one that you failed to inform me of. I have to ask myself why.”

“You had no right to do that,” he said, his voice hard with anger.

“You had no right to withhold it from me. ‘You can trust me’, you said. ‘I’ll show you’. And I did. I did trust you, and then I found that.”

Marcus stood straighter, ran his fingers over his stubble, scratching at it, and then looked at her with those fathomless dark brown eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I want to, but you need to start telling me the truth.”

Marcus sighed. “Am I allowed wine yet, Doctor Griffin?”

How bad was whatever he had to tell her that he needed to find courage in alcohol? “Don’t Doctor Griffin me right now.”

Marcus gave her a gentle half-smile-pleading kind of look and Abby’s heart softened despite her anger and confusion. She rolled her eyes. “A small glass. Go and sit down,” she said. “I’ll bring it to you.”

She gathered the wine and two glasses and headed to the living area where Marcus was sitting in his usual position on the sofa. The fire wasn’t lit and the room felt cold. Abby arranged the logs, managed to light them with only five attempts, all her practice this week paying off. She turned the lamps on, switched the main light off. They were cocooned in a soft orange glow. Intimate, more conducive to the revealing of long-held secrets, or so she hoped. Marcus had poured them both a glass and was sipping his when Abby sat on the adjacent sofa and looked at him expectantly.

“This wine is good,” Marcus said.

“We’re not talking about the wine.”

“No. Sorry.” Marcus scratched his stubble again. Abby wasn’t sure if it was because he was nervous or if it was itching him. She sat forward so that she was closer to him.

“Marcus. Whatever it is you can tell me. I promise you I will listen and I won’t judge. You can tell me anything.”

He half-smiled, but his eyes were dark and sad. “You haven’t heard what I’ve done yet.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to run away. I promise.” Abby nodded and smiled to encourage him, though she was in turmoil inside.

“I know it’s not Jaha who’s behind the letters and the blackmail because despite everything we’ve been through, he once saved me.”

That was a surprise start to his confession. “Is this about what happened a long time ago, about what made you start the foundation?”

Marcus nodded.

“What happened?”

“You remember I told you that Jaha was in a circle of friends I had, with Caroline?”

“Yes.”

“Well there were a few of us. We all met in our first year of university and got on well for the most part, as young adults do. We went to Blackpool like I told you, hillwalking, some partying.”

“You partied?” Abby raised a jokey eyebrow at Marcus, partly because she was genuinely amused and partly because she wanted to create a comfortable atmosphere where he felt relaxed talking to her.

He smiled. “It has been known.” He took another sip of his wine. “There was another guy I was quite close to, a better friend than Jaha actually, called Jonathan. Jon Osman. He was the good-looking one in the group: tall, dark and handsome as they say.” Marcus smiled at the memory of his friend.

“More handsome than you? Never.”

“I was gawky back then. I hadn’t quite grown into my body, I was all legs and cheekbones and nose.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“Somewhere.”

“That I must see.”

Marcus laughed. “I’ll think about it.” He put his glass on the coaster on the coffee table, twirled it around a few times. “There was another guy as well, David Lodge. He was in the group but he wasn’t my friend. In fact he hated me, bullied me I suppose you could say, although I stood up to him. He wanted to be leader of the group but I was in his way. It was pathetic really, but you know what young men are like, or maybe you don’t. There was a lot of testosterone, on both our parts probably.”

“I am familiar with the young adult male,” said Abby with a laugh. “I married one.”

“Yes, I forget how young you were when you married. I was still mucking around at university and you were already making a home.”

“God it sounds boring when you say it like that!”

“You’re far from boring.”

Abby took a sip of her own wine. “So this David wanted to be top dog?”

“Yes. He did a lot of stuff to try and undermine me. I won’t go into it now but it was quite bad at times.”

Abby had been in Britain long enough to know that when a Brit said something was quite bad it was what any other person would consider to be catastrophic. Marcus must have been through some hard times when he was a young man.

Marcus picked up his wine again, drained the glass and set it back down. He picked at his lip and looked at Abby before he continued. “One day David was found in a back street in Lancaster, beaten to within an inch of his life. He was in hospital, and it wasn’t known if he was going to make it.”

“Oh my God,” said Abby, and goosebumps rose on her arms. Was this what he was scared to tell her? That he’d beaten this guy? Left him for dead? Surely not. She couldn’t see Marcus doing that, even as a young headstrong man.

“It wasn’t me,” Marcus said quickly when he must have noticed the look of apprehension and fear on her face, “but people thought it was.”

“Because of the animosity between you?”

“Yes, and I may have threatened him a couple of weeks before.” Marcus looked down at his empty glass.

“You threatened him?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it. It was one of those things you say in the heat of the moment. I can’t even remember exactly what it was but something like ‘you’d better watch it’, or ‘you won’t be laughing if you do that again’, something like that. Just a retaliation, nothing more.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yes. Well, the police got involved, obviously, wanted to interview us all, and I didn’t have an alibi. I’d been in my digs all night studying alone. I didn’t see anyone. I was so scared, Abby. They were talking about attempted murder and I thought I could easily go down for it. Back then the police were, well they weren’t as thorough as they are now. They wanted convictions.”

Abby remembered her own dealings with the police, how frightening it had been, even though they were polite with her, there was an atmosphere of accusation, looks that questioned how she could not know what her husband had been doing. She’d thought then how easy it would have been to be implicated alongside him. She shuffled right to the end of the sofa so she could take Marcus’s hands in hers.

“I know what that feels like. I really do.”

He looked guiltily at her. “Of course you do, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m just saying I understand. I know how frightening it can be, and you were a young man.”

Marcus nodded. “I saw my whole future disappear, all the hopes of my parents, everything I’d worked for. It was a nightmare time.”

“So what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have to. Jaha saved me.”

Now they were coming to it, to the truth about why he felt so obliged to Jaha, why he didn’t think he was responsible for what was happening to them. “How?” she said.

“We were talking in my digs; this was before the police had been to see either of us. I was panicking, and he said he would give me an alibi, say he was with me, that we were both studying together.”

“Okay,” said Abby.

“I said no. I didn’t want to lie. I mean, I knew I hadn’t done it, so it wasn’t as though I’d be preventing the police finding the real culprit, but it didn’t feel right. I believed that you should own up to your mistakes, not that I’d made one, but you know what I mean.”

Abby nodded.

“But Jaha said he’d heard I was a person of interest, that the police liked me for it. I thought, well once David comes round he can tell the police who did it, and clear my name, but if he didn’t come round, or God forbid if he died, it would be too late to suddenly say I had an alibi. I still said no, but the police came while Jaha was still in my room, and they were intimidating, and when they asked where I was that night and who I was with Jaha said I was with him and I didn’t say anything to contradict him. I kept quiet.”

He looked at Abby with such a pained expression she got up and squeezed herself onto the sofa next to him, taking hold of his hand. “You did the right thing.”

“No.”

“Yes. Like you said, you didn’t do it, so what harm did it do?” She squeezed his hand to reassure him but there was something nagging at the back of her mind, a disquieting feeling that she couldn’t pin down.

“That’s not the worst of it, though.”

“Okay. What else happened?” Marcus was so close to her now she could see tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow. His hand was hot where it was held in hers.

“When the police couldn’t get me they went for Jon. There was no way he did it, Abby. He was soft and gentle, and he would never hurt anybody. There’s no way, but the police found some so-called evidence, a fingerprint, some hair. They could have been left at any time, but that was all they needed. They arrested him, and I never thought in a million years he would be convicted, but he was, and he was sent to prison for five years.” The words came out in a breathless rush, one on top of the other, and Abby had to concentrate to make each one out, to reform the jumble of words into sentences.

“Did David recover eventually? Did he identify Jon?”

“Yes he recovered, and no he couldn’t identify his attacker, didn’t see him, but he didn’t say it wasn’t Jon. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t.”

Abby stroked Marcus’s face, her fingers grazing the sharp stubble. “This is not your fault, you know,” she said softly.

Marcus grabbed her hand, held it tightly against his face. “It is. It was. If I hadn’t lied about my alibi the police wouldn’t have looked at Jon, Abby.”

“Maybe not, but they’d have looked at you and you might have been convicted instead. Do you think they made up the evidence?”

“I could never find proof of that. I tried everything to help Jon. I campaigned, I wrote letters, I tried to find out who had really done it, but nothing worked.”

Abby tried to think through what Marcus had told her, but it was confusing. There were no obvious suspects, other than the police who sounded guiltier than whoever had beaten David. “What happened to Jon?”

To her immense surprise, Marcus let out a sob, and a tear rolled down his cheek and onto her hand where it was still held in his grip.

“He was released after serving half his sentence, and he killed himself a year after that. He couldn’t get a job, had nowhere to live. He had nothing, and he couldn’t take it. He was only twenty-four.”

Abby’s heart ached for Marcus, and for Jon, and all the young lives that had been changed by this one act. She pulled Marcus into a hug, and he wept on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. It’s not,” she whispered as she stroked his hair.

“Is this the one decision?” she said as he pulled away from her to wipe the tears from his face.

“Yes.”

“Everything you’ve done since, going into the prison service, fighting for prison reform, creating the foundation. It’s all because of this?”

Marcus nodded. “If I couldn’t help Jon then I wanted to help other young people, to make their lives better, give them hope, even if they were in prison. I wanted them to have a chance when they got out.”

It was Abby’s turn to feel tears welling. This man. This deep-thinking, complicated, dedicated man. She felt so much love for him in this moment it was overwhelming. “You’re a wonderful, caring, amazing man,” she said, and she kissed his lips gently, stroked his brow.

Marcus shook his head. “I’m a coward.”

“No, no, you’re not. You’re far from a coward. Like your foundation says, what you did then doesn’t define you. It’s what you’ve done since, and you’ve dedicated your life to helping other people. I’m so proud of you.”

Marcus rubbed his eyes, let out a relieved breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” said Abby.

Marcus leaned in and took her face in his hands, brought her to him and kissed her. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” said Abby, not even surprised that the words had come out so easily in the end, because she’d never felt it more than she did at this moment.

Marcus’s breath hitched, a soft moan escaped his lips, and he kissed her again, more passionately.

“I’ve never told anyone about the alibi,” he said when they parted.

“I can tell. You should have let that out a long time ago, Marcus.”

“I couldn’t. Everyone knew I was a suspect. It’s always haunted me. I’m sure there are people who think I did it, even now. If they’d known about the alibi...”

“Is that what you meant when you said you could never escape?”

He looked at her quizzically. “I said that?”

“Yes, when I thought you had done the dirty on Jaha with Caroline.”

“Oh, well yes. People believe I’m capable of anything.”

“They don’t know you.”

“I’ve never wanted them to, until you came along.”

Abby’s butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “Not even Caroline?”

“She doesn’t know about the alibi. The rest of it, of course, but not that.”

“Okay.” Abby sat back. She was exhausted, and she was sure Marcus must be. He was still recovering after all, and that had been a very emotional conversation. “Do you want something to eat?” she said, mainly for something to distract them, although she was also starving.

“Yes, I think I do.” Marcus started to stand but Abby stopped him.

“I’ll make it.”

“No. I said I’d do it.” He stood anyway and Abby had no choice but to stand with him.

“We’ll make it together.”

Marcus smiled. “Okay.” As Abby turned towards the kitchen he caught her arm, spun her back towards him. He kissed her again, a deep searching kiss that made her whole body ache. “Thank you,” he said when he released her.

“Don’t do that,” said Abby with a groan.

“Why not?”

“Because we still have two more days to go.”

“It will be worth the wait,” Marcus said.

“I can’t believe you of all people has said that. You were desperate a few days ago.”

“I know. Me either.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen.


	19. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some questions are answered, but this only seems to lead to more questions!

In the kitchen they made a frittata, and it reminded Abby of the first time she’d stayed the night with Marcus, which felt like a lifetime ago but was only a few short months. Abby didn’t need to be handed a chopping board this time, she knew where everything was kept, and they stood side by side slicing capsicums, courgettes and onions. They didn’t speak much, both of them needing time to rest, to think, but Marcus was smiling, and Abby suspected he was thinking about when she’d finally told him she loved him, that it was making him happy. It made her happy too thinking about it. It felt silly now, to have made such a big thing about saying the words, but this wasn’t a place she’d ever thought she would be, at least not at this time in her life. There is never a right time for something to happen. It happens when it does, and you can either run away from it, or embrace it. She looked up at Marcus as he added the vegetables to the pan. He sensed her looking, and turned towards her, smiling. She smiled back. He leaned towards her and kissed her lips.

“How did we get so lucky?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

“I think I’ve loved you since you picked that crumb out of your cleavage.”

Abby laughed. “Loved me or my body?”

“Both I would say.”

Abby nudged him playfully. “It took me a while to admit it to myself, how I felt about you.”

“When was that?” Marcus added the eggs to the pan, stirred them briefly.

“Gosh, I don’t know. I think when we watched that film, An Affair to Remember. I watched you tidying up and I just felt a massive tug on my heart. It was overwhelming.”

“That’s not very long ago!”

“Well, that’s when I admitted it, not necessarily when I actually fell in love with you.”

Marcus put the frittata in the oven then turned to look at Abby. “When did you actually fall in love with me?”

Abby thought about it for a moment. “I think when you first aligned your briefcase on my table. There was something about it, I don’t know why.”

“That usually puts most women off.”

“I’m not most women.”

Marcus put his arms around her waist, pulled her close. “No, you are not.” He nuzzled her neck, kissed her there.

“Stop it,” said Abby.

“Why?” replied Marcus, and his lips moved along her jaw, down to her clavicles. Abby moaned.

“You know why. Your blood pressure.”

“It’s already raised.”

“So I can feel.”

He pressed her against the countertop, his swelling cock heavy against her thigh. “The week is nearly up,” he said as he kissed her neck again.

“It’s been four days. Four days ago you were in a coma.”

“Even more reason to celebrate being alive.”

“Marcus.”

He was easing the buttons of her blouse out of their slots one by one, and Abby was trying not to enjoy it, trying not to think about where this was going to end up, but it had been a while, and she was already throbbing.

“Shush.” He pulled her blouse out of her skirt, peeled it down her arms and discarded it on the floor. His thumbs rubbed her nipples through the silk of her bra, and then he bent his head, kissed the swell of each breast, pulled the lace down so he could wrap his lips around her nipple and suck.

“Aah,” sighed Abby, and she closed her eyes, let her head fall back as Marcus lavished his attention on her breasts. She should stop this, she really should. It wasn’t good for him. “Oh!” she said, as his hand snaked under her skirt, his thumb on the inside of her thigh, going higher, and higher, until it found her damp knickers, pressed against them, circled her clit beneath the cotton. “Not fair,” she whispered.

Marcus didn’t speak, but she felt him smile against her breast. She was so busy concentrating on the sensations his fingers were stirring in her sex she didn’t notice he’d stopped sucking on her nipples. She opened her eyes to find him stood back a little, looking at her. “I’ll be gentle,” he murmured. “With both of us.”

Abby gave in, not that there was any doubt she was going to, and nodded. “You’d better,” she said.

Marcus undid her bra, then pushed her skirt up her thighs, hooked his thumbs in her knickers and slipped them down. Abby stepped out of them and spread her legs, expecting him to sink to his knees so he could taste her. He surprised the hell out of her by putting his arms around her and lifting her onto the countertop.

“Marcus?”

He stood between her legs, smiling at her. “It’s okay,” he said, and then he bent so his face was close to her sex, before spreading her lips wide with his thumbs and diving in, his tongue giving her a long, infinitely slow lick, as though he was savouring every millimetre of her. His stubble scratched against Abby’s delicate flesh, and it was exquisite. Abby moaned, and she didn’t stop moaning until her thighs were quivering, and her heart was racing, and every nerve in her body was on fire.

Marcus straightened up, looked at her with a grin. “I missed that.”

“Come here,” said Abby, and she grabbed his shirt, pulled him towards her and kissed her juices off his face, the short stubbly hairs rough against her tongue. Marcus put his hands in her hair, and their lips sought each other, kissing roughly, urgently. Their moans and sighs were loud and unfettered. They stopped kissing long enough for Abby to pull Marcus’s grey t-shirt over his head, and then they were back at it again. They were devouring each other. It was hot, frantic. Her fingers flew to his pants, scrambled to undo his belt, get the button undone, pull his zip down. Marcus shoved the trousers the rest of the way down along with his underpants and kicked them to one side.

Abby grabbed his cock, stroked it a few times then guided it inside her. Marcus thrust hard, and any thoughts about going slow flew out of Abby’s mind as he buried himself deep within her. “Oh God, yes,” she said.

Marcus was kissing her neck, her throat, anywhere he could reach. “I want you, I love you,” he said as he thrust harder and faster.

Abby wrapped her legs around his back and pressed him tighter to her. It was like their first time, only now they knew each other, had no inhibitions, didn’t care what noises they made, how naked their desire for each other was. Heat was building again, and she lay back so he could access her breasts, suck on her nipples again, sending pulses of pleasure directly to her clit. “I want you too,” she cried, and Marcus gave one last thrust, emptied into her. Abby squeezed him to wring every drop of pleasure from him, and that sent her over, a warm, deep orgasm washing through her body.

“What was that?” she said when they’d calmed down and she was sitting up, facing a sweaty Marcus.

“Need,” he said, and they both laughed.

“The countertop, Marcus!” Abby said as she jumped down. “You surprised the hell out of me.”

Marcus shrugged. “I figured I can find ways around it. It doesn’t have to stop me doing what I want.”

Abby flung her arms around him. “I don’t care if you clean before, during and after. None of it matters.”

“You’re quite extraordinary,” he said with a grin.

“So are you.”

The timer on the oven beeped just as their lips were about to meet again. Marcus padded naked across the kitchen to turn it off. “Guess we’d better get cleaned up then. Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving.”

“Good.”

\---

Abby and Marcus sat at the table while they ate their meal. There was still so much to talk about, but Abby didn’t want to push Marcus too much. It had already been an emotional night, and they’d had sex when they shouldn’t have. He was quiet while he ate, and she was worried about his state of mind and any lingering effects of the head injury. She didn’t have to worry for long about how to broach the subject of the letter, however, because Marcus did it for her.

“You said you found the extra letter, or a photo of it on my phone,” said Marcus as he pushed his empty plate to one side.

“We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“No, we do. I want to.”

“You’ve had an emotional day, Marcus. I’m worried about you.”

Marcus reached across, took her hand in his. “I feel fine, I really do. It’s like a weight has been lifted already, just telling you what I have.”

“Okay, but promise me if you start to feel unwell you’ll rest.”

“I promise.” Marcus poured them both another glass of wine and Abby didn’t stop him, though she probably should. “I’m sorry you found out about the letter the way you did. I should have told you.”

“It was a shock.”

Marcus nodded. “I bet.”

“I’m sorry I snooped in your phone.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s me that’s sorry. I said I would show you that you can trust me and then a few days later I violated that promise.”

“Why did you do it?”

Marcus let go of her hand so he could take a sip of his drink and stare out at their reflection in the window. He turned back to Abby. “I was worried when I found that in the post. I knew it was from the blackmailer, because I recognised the envelope and the typeface and I didn’t want to open it. I was dreading what was inside. Had they followed us to Blackpool and seen us under the pier? Did they somehow know what we’d done in the Town Hall? Then when I opened it and it was just those four words I was shocked. I had no idea what they could mean.”

“When did you find it?”

“When I got home the day after we photographed your paintings at the museum. You were at work.”

“But you saw me on the Friday. You picked me up, and you never said a word.”

“Yes, I know. Well I’d done some thinking by then. The words seemed different to the letters and pictures, more threatening, sinister. I didn’t want to scare you, and I thought I could deal with it myself.”

“We said we were in this together.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you.”

Abby looked closely at Marcus. He seemed sincere but he’d known what she’d been through with her ex-husband, how much she hated secrets and lies. She sighed. “I don’t want to be excluded from anything again.”

“I won’t, I promise. I know that doesn’t mean anything after I said that before and then broke it, but I do. I do promise. I was going to tell you. When you got the last letter and you Skyped, I was going to mention it and then that person walked past the window and it went out of my mind.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about you, Marcus. I won’t put up with constant apologies and promises that mean nothing. I can’t do that again.”

“You won’t have to. I realise now that you’re strong, stronger than me. You don’t need protecting.” He covered his face with his hands, rubbed his fingers across his eyebrows, under his eyes, down to his stubbly chin. He looked tired.

“I do want you to protect me and take care of me and look out for me, but I want to do the same for you. It should be a mutual thing.”

Marcus gave a tight nod. “Yes, I agree. I’m used to being the caregiver I suppose, the provider.”

Abby’s chest grew tight at his words, for they showed how little love he must have got in return for his devotion to Caroline. 

“Speaking of. . .” Marcus looked at Abby with a pained expression.

She knew what he was going to say, and she cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “No. That’s enough for today. You’re tired. You’ve already disobeyed the doctor. You need to rest.”

“It was worth it,” said Marcus with a glint in his eye.

Abby grinned. “Yes. Now go and lie on the sofa and I’ll clean everything up. Doctor’s orders.”

Marcus kissed her cheek as he stood. “We are going to play doctor-patient before long though, aren’t we?”

“If you do everything I tell you from now on then I might think about it.”

Marcus groaned. “I don’t know how you can talk to me like that and expect me to be good.”

Abby raised both her eyebrows at him. “I think you’ll manage it. Now go.”

Marcus headed for the living room and Abby cleared their plates away. She loaded the dishwasher and cleaned every surface twice so there was no possibility of germs from their earlier activity. She thought briefly that as Marcus was getting less concerned with his obsessions she was getting more so, and she laughed softly.

When she’d finished she dimmed the lights, stoked the fire, then laid alongside Marcus on the sofa, pulling the blanket over them. She rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart the rise and fall of his breathing. He put his arm around her shoulder, stroked her gently. They lay in the flickering firelight, listening to the crackling of the logs.

“Do you want to watch a film?” Marcus said.

“No. I’m happy like this, unless you want to?”

She felt him shake his head, and he squeezed her shoulder. “I’m fine like this.”

“When you’re feeling better we should go out somewhere nice, so I can show off my earrings.”

“Hmmm.” Marcus’s voice was low and rumbled through his chest where Abby lay with her ear pressed against him. “We could go to Manchester. What do you like to do?”

“For entertainment?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. Anything really. Shows, concerts, art galleries.”

“By shows you mean musicals?” Abby couldn’t see Marcus’s face but she knew from the tone of his voice that he was grimacing.

“You don’t want to see Rent or Hamilton, or Cats?”

“I’d rather have my ear chewed off by a rabid dog.”

Abby snorted with laughter at his phrasing, and Marcus was chuckling in her ear. “A concert then? Are you a Foo Fighters or One Direction kind of man?”

“A what?” Marcus shook his head again. “I’m a Mozart or Haydn kind of man. I can occasionally be persuaded to some Wagner.”

“Why are we together again?”

“Because the sex is amazing.”

“No other reason?”

“Obviously not!”

“Okay.” Abby laughed. She slid her hand beneath his t-shirt, played with the sparse hairs on his chest. “Maybe we can do something we each want.”

“I’d be happy to go to an art gallery with you.”

“I’d be happy to go to a classical concert with you, as long as it was something light.”

“I’ll check what’s on at the Bridgewater Hall,” said Marcus. “Sometimes they do themed events that are more of a mixture of styles.”

“I already know there’s an exhibition about representations of women in art at the Whitworth,” said Abby, and she pinched Marcus’s nipple when he groaned.

“Ow!” he said.

“One each we agreed.”

“Yes, I know. I agree to it. You can take me to dinner at San Carlo and that should balance the evening out.”

“San Carlo? You’ll need to give me a pay rise.”

Marcus sighed, and Abby regretted mentioning the prison, however obliquely. “I need to get in touch with the prison tomorrow. There’s probably a hundred messages on my phone.”

“Well, that’s tomorrow. Tonight you rest and relax.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“That’s better.” Abby snuggled further into Marcus.

“I need to confess something,” said Marcus in a soft voice.

“What? Abby lifted her head to look at him sharply. She’d told him no more talk about his past.

“I’m having feelings for my doctor. She makes me have naughty thoughts. Is that wrong or is it normal, in your professional opinion?”

Abby chuckled, part from relief as well as amusement. “It’s very wrong. Very naughty of you.” Marcus bent his head to hers, and they kissed.

“We’re breaking all the rules,” Abby said when they parted.

“I don’t care about the rules,” Marcus said as he stroked her hair.

“Since when?”

“Since I met you.”

Abby laid her head back on his chest, her smile buried in the folds of his t-shirt. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

\---

The following day they had a leisurely breakfast and then went for a gentle stroll over the moor. Marcus had called his boss at the prison service first thing in the morning and explained all the circumstances around Abby’s hiring as an art therapist, how it had been Dr Jackson’s idea and she had worked for free until Marcus had realised this and put her on the payroll. His boss was sympathetic, and whilst there was no issue on the part of the prison service with Abby’s employment, Marcus’s decision to pay her out of his own money for her prior service was a potential problem and the prison service was going to have to undertake an inquiry, informally at first. His boss had made it clear that Marcus should consider extending his sick leave so they wouldn’t have to suspend him while the inquiry was being carried out. A statement in response to the newspaper allegations was being drafted, and Abby had no doubt it would be bland and non-committal.

Marcus had been in a quiet mood ever since that phone call. Abby’s heart was aching for him because he was a scrupulous man who prided himself on working hard and being the best he could be. To be effectively suspended and the subject of an inquiry must be very painful and humiliating for him. She’d suggested the walk to take his mind off it, but even the sighting of a barn owl quartering the moor looking for prey hadn’t lightened his mood.

Back at the house, they were eating a light lunch at the table when Marcus’s phone pinged with a text. He looked at it and his face grew dark and thunderous.

“What is it?” asked Abby, concerned that it was a message from his boss about the inquiry.

“It’s her,” said Marcus, and he grimaced as he looked at Abby.

There was only one person who could induce such a reaction in Marcus. “Caroline?”

Marcus nodded. “How the hell did she get my number?”

“Maybe the hospital gave it to her, or the police. What does she want?” said Abby.

“She wants to see me,” he replied, and he slammed the phone down on the table.

“What for?”

“I don’t know!” He gave Abby a frustrated look. “What did she want when she came to the hospital?”

Abby thought back to her conversations with Caroline, which she’d tried hard to forget had ever happened. “She said she was here because the police had called her as she was still listed as your next of kin. They’d told her you were at death’s door and she might have some decisions to make.”

“Did you believe her?”

“I couldn’t understand why she was still your next of kin, but you were in a bad state when I found you, so I wasn’t surprised that the police had thought you were in danger.”

Marcus reached out to cover Abby’s hand with his. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, when you found me. It must have been horrible.”

“It wasn’t the best moment of my life.” Abby didn’t want Marcus to get side tracked now that he’d brought up the subject of Caroline, so she asked him the question she’d been desperate to know the answer to ever since the woman had turned up at the hospital. “Why is she still your next of kin, Marcus?”

Marcus shook his head. “I didn’t realise she was.”

“How could you not know?”

“It must be a form I signed for the prison service a long time ago and after the divorce I just never thought about it.”

“Well, what else is she still entitled to, Marcus? Your pension? Everything you own?”

Marcus sighed deeply. He looked down at the table. “Yes, probably. It’s all on the same form.”

“You’d better get that changed.”

He looked up at her, his eyes dark, a sheepish smile on his face. “I will.”

“It still doesn’t explain why she wants to see you. I think she said something at the hospital about needing to talk to you.”

“I can’t think what about.”

“Maybe she was hoping you’d die,” said Abby, unable to keep the scorn she felt for Caroline out of her voice.

Marcus smiled. “You didn’t like her?”

“I hated her,” said Abby.

Marcus squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl.”

Abby returned his smile. “What did you ever see in her?”

“She wasn’t like that when I met her. I know that’s hard to believe but she was fun and I enjoyed her company.”

“When did it change, and don’t say it was your fault because I’m not listening to that?”

“I’m not saying it was my fault, but my obsessions did get out of control after Jon died. Caroline and I were married by then, and I don’t think it was much fun for her.”

“Perhaps not, but you talk to each other, you try to work something out. You don’t make the other person feel bad about themselves. That’s not what people who love each other do.”

“I know. I realise that now.”

“I don’t think she changed. From what little you’ve told me, and what I’ve seen of her for myself, she’s probably always been like she is. She just fooled you because she wanted something from you.”

Marcus sighed heavily. “You’re right, which begs the question, what does she want from me now?”

“Maybe her current marriage is in trouble? Do you know anything about it?”

“No, other than he was some rich guy.” Marcus said with a shake of his head. “When she left I was so relieved in many ways I just wanted to get rid of all trace of her, which is why I built the new house, moved away from where we lived together. Clearly, I didn’t get rid of everything.” He shrugged his shoulders in a rueful gesture.

“Well you’re going to sort that out, and then there won’t be any traces left of her.”

Marcus nodded, and then he looked at Abby, and she knew what he was thinking. Should he meet Caroline, find out what she wanted?

“I think you should meet her,” Abby said, to save him any further turmoil.

“Really?” Surprise registered on Marcus’s face and in his voice.

“Yes. Let’s draw a line under her once and for all. Meet her, find out what she wants, send her packing.”

“I don’t know...”

“I’ll be with you, if you want. I’d be more than happy to watch you put her in her place.”

Marcus smiled. “I bet you would. I’m not meeting her here, though,” he said vehemently.

Abby squeezed his hand. “No. This is your place, your sanctuary.”

“It’s ours now.” He looked at her with warm, loving eyes, and Abby looked back at him.

What was he saying? Did he want her to move in with him? It was too soon for that. She’d only just told him she loved him. She needed a lot more time to give up her independence entirely, even though they were living together to all intents and purposes. It was a whole other kettle of fish making it official. “It holds our memories, yes,” she said as a compromise.

“I don’t want her spoiling them,” said Marcus.

“She won’t. We’ll meet up in Lancaster. At the Radisson perhaps, didn’t you used to go there?” She nearly choked on the second part of that sentence, but she figured it would be a good place, would put Caroline at ease and maybe they’d get the whole truth out of her.

“The Radisson? No we never went there. I don’t think it’s still around anyway. It’s an office block now.”

Abby was so surprised she had to take a moment to comb through her memory to the conversation she’d had with Caroline about the hotel. “She said she was staying there while she was here visiting you. That you used to stay there as a young couple.” Abby left out the word ‘athletic’ that Caroline had used to describe her and Marcus back in those days.

"She can’t have been staying there. I’m almost certain it’s long gone.”

“This is getting so strange. Okay, we have to meet her, find out what she wants.” Abby’s curiosity was piqued, and she hated Caroline for making her feel this way, for inserting herself into their lives like this.

“I’ll think about it before I text her back,” said Marcus. “No harm in making her wait.”

“Good plan,” said Abby with a smile.

She cleared away the lunch things and Marcus went into his study to respond to emails regarding his campaign. The election was only a week and a half away and there was a lot for him to do even without the added complication of the newspaper article. Abby sat in front of the window and sketched the view. It was too cold to sit outside even though she now had a plentiful supply of warm winter outerwear thanks to Marcus going on an online shopping spree a few weeks earlier. She thought about Caroline while she drew. She didn’t really want Marcus to meet her, would be happy if she never saw the woman ever again, but she knew from her dealings with Caroline so far that the woman wasn’t going to give up. Whatever she wanted, it would be better to deal with it rather than wonder. Marcus was already thinking about it more than Abby would like for his current condition. She believed that outwardly he never intended to keep Caroline as his next of kin, but she wondered if subconsciously he had needed that connection, that last link. Either way, it was time to cut the cord once and for all.

She’d been drawing for a couple of hours when Marcus’s phone pinged again with a text. He’d left it on the dinner table after he’d slammed it down, so Abby got up and went over to it. The text was visible on his lock screen when she turned the phone over. It was from Jaha. She could only read the first line, but it said, “we need to talk.” Abby sighed. This was the last thing Marcus needed. It would be tempting to delete the text before he saw it if Abby was any other kind of person, but Marcus was a grown man. It wasn’t for her to decide what he saw and what he didn’t. She took the phone and headed to his study. The door was open but she knocked gently anyway. Marcus turned and smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Your phone beeped. You have a text.”

Marcus groaned. “Not from her?”

“It looks like it’s from Jaha,” said Abby, and handed the phone to Marcus.

He swiped across and entered his code, which Abby could see he hadn’t changed. She hoped he’d changed his passwords on his computer after the intruder. She’d have to bring that up with him. She watched as he read the text, frowning as he did.

“Another one who wants to talk to me,” he said with a grimace.

“It better be an apology for lying to the paper,” said Abby in an annoyed tone.

“I’ll ring him tomorrow,” said Marcus.

“I don’t trust him,” said Abby. “I know you do but I don’t.”

“You haven’t known him as long as me.”

“I know, but maybe that means I can see him more clearly.”

Marcus stroked his stubble, which Abby was starting to recognise as a sign that he was feeling stressed. She felt bad that she was causing him to feel that way, but there was something about Jaha that had been nagging at her since Marcus told her about their alibi pact, something that Marcus didn’t seem to have considered. She didn’t want him going to any meeting with Jaha thinking that the man was an ally when in Abby’s opinion he was anything but.

“I know he’s not been much of a friend for a while, but...” Marcus trailed off, because he probably couldn’t think of anything he could defend Jaha with except for an old debt that still lay between them.

“Have you ever wondered why Jaha was so eager to give you an alibi?” said Abby.

Marcus’s brow knitted into a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that by giving you an alibi, he also gave himself one.” Abby watched Marcus closely to see his reaction to the thought that had been growing in the back of her mind since he’d told her this yesterday.

His brow creased further as he contemplated her words. “No,” he said at last.

“Think about it, Marcus. He was the one who offered you the alibi, and even though you said no, he disobeyed your wishes when he told the police. He took your choice away. Why did he do that?”

“He was doing what any good friend would do.”

“Would you do that? Lie to help a friend?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t, Abby.” Marcus rubbed the creases in his brow. “If it was you, if you needed me.”

“I wouldn’t put you in that situation, no good friend would. You didn’t. You tried, but he did it anyway. There was nothing you could do once he’d told the police. It would have looked suspicious.” Abby realised as she said this that she had in fact lied for Marcus when the policeman asked her if there was any reason to suspect he had been attacked. That was different though. Marcus hadn’t asked her to do it, not directly. Abby had nothing personally to gain from telling the truth, whereas Jaha definitely did to her mind.

Marcus pushed back his chair and stood. He towered over Abby but she wasn’t intimidated, not that she thought he was trying to assert any kind of authority over her. “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re saying it was him who beat David.”

“I am saying that.”

Marcus shook his head vehemently. “There’s no reason for him to do that.”

“He was a good enough friend that you thought nothing about him lying for you, but you don’t think he would have beaten David on your behalf?”

“That’s an entirely different thing, Abby. A small lie versus nearly beating someone to death, and then watching someone else go to jail for it.”

Abby was almost convinced by Marcus’s sincerity. He seemed so certain that his old friend wasn’t capable of the crime, but someone had been, unless it was an entirely random act. “I suppose it’s possible he wouldn’t go that far for you. He must have hated you at the time, after Caroline. I’m surprised to be honest he gave you an alibi.”

“Oh, this was before I was with Caroline, before the software. A good few months before.”

Abby’s pulse quickened. “So it’s entirely plausible he beat up David in some twisted revenge or protection of you, and then provided an alibi for both of you.”

“I suppose, but he could have exposed me at any time, especially after I hurt him over Caroline, but he didn’t.”

“That’s because he would have exposed himself.” As she said those words, Abby was convinced she was right. Jaha was only protecting himself, not Marcus, and ever since then this had been between them, keeping Marcus down, making him trust Jaha even while he was being stabbed in the back.

Marcus had paled, and Abby was worried about him. “Come and sit down,” she said, but Marcus didn’t move.

“If Jaha really did do what you say, and I’m not convinced yet that he did, then he couldn’t be responsible for the letters.”

“Unless he’s playing with you.”

“And risk exposing himself after all these years? I can’t see it.”

Abby had to agree with Marcus. It seemed counter productive to try and embroil Marcus in such a scandal, and Jaha would have no reason to see justice being served. Everything he’d done had been his own making.

“This doesn’t get us any closer to who the letter writer is, then, does it?”

Marcus shrugged. “I suppose it eliminates one suspect.”

“If we agree it’s not some elaborate double-play on Jaha’s part.”

“If we agree that, yes.”

“So we’re back to square one,” said Abby.

“Yes, and what am I going to do about Jaha?”

“Wait,” said Abby. “Let’s see what he wants and take it from there. We don’t have proof, so it’s going to be hard to accuse him of anything, in public at least.”

“I could get the Private Investigator to look into Jaha, see if he can find anything out about that time.”

“That’s a great idea. Have you had much joy from him yet?”

“I didn’t have a lot of time before I was attacked to give him any detailed instructions. He was looking into the letters, getting them examined forensically. He emailed while I was in hospital to say there was nothing of any significance.”

“We need to try and find out who beat David up, and who has a reason to think it’s you and want justice.”

“I know. I need to think about this,” said Marcus, rubbing his temples. “About everything.”

He was tired, and Abby was worried this was all too much. “You do, but I don’t want you to get too worked up about it all. You’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” said Marcus. “I just need time.” He sat back in his chair, swivelling it from side to side.

Abby knew when to take a hint, and she nodded and bent to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going to get dinner started,” she said. Marcus nodded, but his eyes were already unfocussed, disappeared into the past, back to a time he’d spent his whole life atoning for.


	20. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Abby want answers, but will they like what they hear?

On Monday morning Abby sat in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for Marcus to come out of a check-up and consultation with Dr Martin. They’d spent a quiet, relaxing weekend after the tumult of the previous week. Marcus had arranged to meet Jaha after his hospital appointment, and Abby was nervous about it. She’d already decided that if Dr Martin didn’t think Marcus was progressing well enough then she was going to put her foot down about the meeting. She wasn’t sure how Marcus would respond to that, but she could be just as stubborn as him, and he would find out how much if he tried to argue with her.

Marcus had been as good as his word and changed his next of kin and beneficiary status online. He’d told her that the “bulk” of his estate would be left to his own Foundation, The Prison Reform Trust and other charities that worked with young people, but wouldn’t be drawn on who would be the beneficiary of the remainder. He’d been so brusque about it when she pressed him she’d suspected he’d included her but didn’t want to tell her. Maybe he thought it would put pressure on their relationship, which it would because it was far too soon for that level of commitment. A couple of months ago Abby might have run screaming from the thought. Now, although she didn’t want to dwell on it too much, she figured it was his money to do with what he wanted. Besides, it would hopefully be decades in the future before it became an issue, and who knew where they’d be by then.

She looked up as the door to the waiting room opened and a smiling Marcus entered. Abby stood to greet him. “How did it go?” she said.

“Fine.” Marcus slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “I got a clean bill of health.” He leaned in and kissed her.

“Is that it then? Is there anything you still need to do or are you free of the hospital?”

“I’m free to resume all previous activities.” He grinned at her, squeezed her arse as he pressed her to him.

“Did you tell her you already had?” said Abby with a laugh.

“She already knew, or suspected. She asked me how many times I’d broken her rules.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her just the once.”

“Just the once?”

“Hmmm.”

“What about last night?” Abby said as Marcus kissed her cheek.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you did all the work.”

“True.”

They kissed, lost in each other, until the door opened and a gaggle of children barrelled in followed by an exasperated mother pushing another child in a hospital wheelchair, plastered leg sticking out.

“Sorry,” she said to Abby and Marcus as they squeezed past the children and went out into the hallway.

“I wish we could just go home,” said Marcus as they walked hand in hand towards the exit.

“I wonder what for?” grinned Abby as they stepped out into the cold November air.

“I fancy some bird watching.”

Abby laughed, and then she pulled Marcus’s scarf from her bag and wrapped it around him, fastening it at his throat so the wind wouldn’t whip it away.

“You could do with a hat,” she said as she appraised him.

“I’m not an old man yet,” he said, pulling at the scarf to loosen it.

“You’re still recovering. I don’t care what the doctor says.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling, then he sighed. “What time is it?”

Abby looked at her phone. “Nearly eleven.”

“We’d better get to Jaha’s office,” said Marcus with a grimace.

They made the short drive across town to the office block where Jaha headquartered his company, CoL Technology.

“What does CoL stand for?” said Abby as they stood outside the modern glass-fronted building.

“No one knows. He won’t tell you even if you ask him directly.”

“How odd! To be honest, I was surprised at the name when he first gave me his business card. I’d have thought someone like him would call his company Jaha Tech or something after himself.”

“When did he give you his business card?” said Marcus with a frown.

“Oh, ages ago. He asked me to lunch, said he’d show me around his office.”

“I bet he did.” Marcus narrowed his eyes.

“Now, now. Play nice in there until you see what he wants,” said Abby. “No point giving him more ammunition to use against you.”

“I don’t think I can, Abby. I’m so mad with him over that quote to the paper.”

“I know.” Abby reached up to kiss Marcus. “Let him take the lead. If you give him enough of the rope he might hang himself.”

“Okay.” Marcus ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. There’s a Santa Maria Honey coffee and a cinnamon bun waiting for me at The Music Room.”

“Urgh,” said Marcus. “You’d better have a mint before you come back or there’s no kisses for you.”

“Nope. I’m going to come back and I’m going to kiss you so hard you’ll be able to taste every ingredient in the blend, and you’re going to love it.” She fixed Marcus with a challenging look, and then turned to leave. As she took a step towards the street, a deep voice boomed out behind her.

“Kane! Abby!”

Abby turned to see Jaha coming out of the building towards them. Abby’s heart sank. She’d been hoping to avoid seeing him.

“Hello, Thelonious,” she said, the man’s name sticking in her throat. There were a lot of other names she’d rather call Jaha. She glanced at Marcus. He was holding himself stiffly, but otherwise there was no outer sign of any inner turmoil. He nodded to Jaha.

Jaha bypassed Kane and came over to Abby, holding his hand out to her. She reluctantly gave him her hand and he clasped it between both of his. Abby was grateful she had on a good pair of leather gloves so she didn’t have to feel his skin on hers.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” said Jaha, and he pulled her towards him so he could place a kiss on her cheek. Abby could see Marcus take a step towards them, and she gave him the briefest shake of her head. She could handle the likes of Jaha.

“I was just heading off for a coffee,” she said and she pulled away from Jaha, leaving a good couple of feet between them.

“You must come and have coffee with me and Kane. There’s a café on the ground floor that makes the best blend in Lancaster.”

“No, really. I don’t want to intrude on your meeting.”

“Nonsense.”

“Abby has errands to run, Jaha,” said Marcus.

“I’m sure she can spare us half an hour.” Jaha turned and walked back to his building.

Abby and Marcus looked at each other. “You don’t have to come,” said Marcus. “Make your escape now.”

“How would that look?” replied Abby.

“Who cares?”

“Come on, you two,” said Jaha, and Abby sighed as she followed him into the building, with Marcus hanging reluctantly behind.

“Welcome to CoL Tower,” said Jaha, indicating the cavernous ground floor with a sweep of his arm. “What kind of coffee do you drink, Abby?”

“I’ll just have a latte,” said Abby, not wanting to share her precious coffee favourites with this odious man. They were her indulgence, her private pleasure.

“A latte? Surely not. Have a flat white at least.” Jaha indicated to the barista, leaving Abby no choice. “Kane?” said Jaha.

“Tea. Black,” said Marcus, stony faced.

“Ever the adventurer,” said Jaha, and Marcus turned to Abby and rolled his eyes.

When they’d all got a drink Jaha called up the lift and took them to his office on the top floor.

The room was large with a huge window that gave a commanding view of the city of Lancaster. The Lake District hills were visible in the distance, a light dusting of early snow on the tops. Abby could see the pale stone of Lancaster Castle, and in the middle distance the low rooftops of the buildings that made up the prison where she and Marcus worked. Jaha had a large desk made of some modern composite material. He settled into an enormous leather chair behind it, and indicated for Marcus and Abby to sit on two much less imposing chairs on the other side of his desk.

“Are you growing a beard, Kane?” Jaha said as he sat back with arms folded.

Marcus stroked his stubbly chin involuntarily as had become his recent habit. Abby had started to wonder if he realised how long it had been since he’d shaved, and she thought Jaha’s comment had taken him by surprise. “I just fancied a change,” he said. “While I’m not at work.”

“Not one you’re going to keep, though, surely?” Jaha looked disapprovingly at Marcus.

“I haven’t decided,” replied Marcus with a steely tone, and Abby knew he was up for a fight if necessary. She settled back into her chair, content to watch, if Jaha would leave her alone.

There was a tense silence while Jaha and Marcus looked at each other. Abby decided she wasn’t going to interfere one jot so she too sat quietly, waiting to see which of the men would break first. She didn’t think it would be Marcus, and it wasn’t.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright after your accident,” said Jaha at last.

“Nothing much keeps me down,” said Marcus with a nonchalant stare.

“Hmmm. Perhaps that will change with this financial business at the prison,” said Jaha in an even tone.

Now we’re getting to it, thought Abby. She didn’t dare move, not wanting to break the tension between the men.

Marcus sighed. “What do you want, Jaha?”

“What were you thinking?” said Jaha. He turned to look at Abby. “I’m sorry, Abby, that you are involved in this.”

Abby didn’t reply. Jaha wasn’t sorry at all, she could see it in the twinkle of his eye when he looked at her.

“You know nothing about this, Jaha,” said Marcus. “What were you thinking making a comment to the newspaper about something that has nothing to do with you?”

“It has everything to do with me when the man who wants to be Mayor of this town is implicated in financial impropriety. I have to ask myself if he’s fit for this office.”

Marcus leaned forward in his chair. “You know damn well I would never do anything improper.”

Jaha folded his arms defiantly. “But you have, Kane. You have.”

Abby hoped Marcus wouldn’t fall for the bait and tell Jaha anything. The man was clearly fishing for information.

Marcus sat back and crossed his own arms. “I’m confident that I will be exonerated. I did nothing wrong.”

“You’re a fool,” said Jaha.

Marcus narrowed his eyes as he looked at Jaha but didn’t respond.

“You can’t win, you know,” said Jaha after a moment of silence.

“You mean you don’t want me to win.”

“I mean you can’t win. No one’s going to vote for you after this. You should step down now, save yourself the embarrassment.”

Abby heard Marcus’s sharp intake of breath. She saw the muscles in his jaw tense. His fists were clenched where they were clasped together.

“How convenient for you, if I were to step down now,” Marcus hissed through gritted teeth.

“Not at all, not at all. You know I prefer a fair fight. I don’t like to kick a man when he’s down.” Jaha smiled benevolently, but there was nothing kind about his words, his smarmy tone of voice.

Abby wanted to hit him. She only realised her own fists were clenched when she looked down at her hands and saw the whiteness of her knuckles.

“I have to wonder,” said Marcus as he fixed Jaha with a piercing stare, “why you want me to concede so badly. What are you getting out of this?”

“Nothing at all. I merely wish to spare you the pain that is to come.”

“Like you did twenty years ago?”

It was Jaha’s turn to take a sharp breath. Marcus had taken him completely by surprise and Abby smiled, she couldn’t help it. Fortunately, Jaha wasn’t looking at her, he was staring fixedly at Marcus.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Now Jaha glanced at Abby. “I don’t think you want to get into that here, Kane, do you?”

“Abby knows everything.”

Jaha looked at her again with his cool dark eyes. Abby raised her eyebrows and nodded in confirmation.

“I did you a favour twenty years ago and I’m doing you another one now.”

Marcus sat further forward, put his hands on Jaha’s desk. “Did you? Or did you do yourself a favour?”

Jaha’s fingers curled around a silver fountain pen that was lying on his desk. That was the only outer sign Abby could see that he was perturbed by Marcus’s accusation.

“How exactly did I do myself a favour?”

Marcus stroked his chin, running finger and thumb over it repeatedly. This was hard for him. Abby wanted to reach across and take his hand in hers, to still it, to calm him.

“By giving me an alibi, you gave yourself an alibi.” He was repeating her words to him, and Abby’s heart skipped a beat. He had listened. He believed her.

Jaha sat back, gazed at Marcus coolly. “Twenty years and you’ve never said a word about this. What has changed I wonder?”

“My eyes have opened.”

“It’s not your eyes that have been opened.” He looked at Abby. “You’re being led by other body parts again.”

Marcus closed his eyes briefly, centering himself probably. “What were you doing the night David was attacked?”

Jaha’s shoulders heaved as he took two deep breaths. He pushed back his chair, stood and leaned forward so his hands were on the table. “A desperate accusation from a desperate man.”

Marcus remained seated. “Just answer my question, and that will be the end of the matter.”

Jaha stood up straight. “This is nothing more than a ruse to distract me from the real problem here which is that you should not be standing as Mayoral candidate. I demand you concede.”

Marcus stood then, faced Jaha across the desk. “I will do no such thing.”

Abby stood as well, and moved to stand next to Marcus. He surprised her by taking her hand in his, grasping it tightly. “Did you attack David Lodge that night?” he said in a low voice.

“I did not,” replied Jaha. “Did you?”

“You know I didn’t.”

“I know nothing of the sort. You have no alibi remember.”

“Neither do you.”

Jaha shrugged. “Then I suppose there is nothing either of us can prove one way or the other.” He walked to the door, opened it and held it for Abby and Marcus.

Marcus led Abby to the door. He stopped and smiled at Jaha. “We’ll see you at the election.”

“You will.” Jaha shut the door on them, and Marcus and Abby walked to the lift without speaking.

Once they were safely inside, Abby smiled up at Marcus. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

Marcus let out a long breath. He looked at Abby with sad eyes. “He’s guilty isn’t he?”

Abby squeezed Marcus’s hand. “I think so, yes. I’m sorry.”

Marcus nodded, then he stared at the monitor, watching the numbers slowly descend. Abby stood silently by his side. His world had crumbled today. Everything he’d believed. All his certainties. She hoped he’d draw on her for strength, not disappear inside himself. As she watched him silently watch the monitor she wasn’t at all sure which it would be.

\---

After their meeting with Jaha, Marcus put all his efforts into his campaign. He was still on sick leave, so he armed himself with the leaflets Abby had designed and went out every morning to knock on doors and try and drum up support. Abby went to work at the prison as usual and then returned to Marcus’s house. She was living there now to all intents and purposes. She not only had her own drawer but an entire room where the vast majority of her clothes were now stored. They hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t named it as ‘living together’; it had happened organically because it was convenient and Marcus still needed support. He got tired easily, and sometimes forgot what he was in the middle of doing. He assured Abby that Doctor Martin had said this was all normal for someone recovering from a brain injury. Abby had done some research of her own and could find no reason not to trust his word.

He’d finally shaved, appearing out of his bathroom the morning after their visit to Lancaster with a clean face. Abby didn’t think it was because of what Jaha said, it was more that he felt ready to face his public, and for that he needed to look his best. She’d trimmed his hair and he looked more like the man she’d first met all those months ago. She missed the stubble, if she was honest. It was sexy on him, and was definitely a bonus when he was paying attention to her more private areas. She hadn’t said anything, though, just told him he looked good as he appraised himself in the mirror.

Today she was supposed to be heading out with Marcus on the campaign trail, but he’d been summoned to a meeting with his boss at the prison, so she was hanging around in the medical wing with Jackson, waiting for Marcus to appear. Marcus seemed confident he would be exonerated, but Abby was nervous. The last thing he needed was to be the subject of a formal inquiry. That really would mean his resignation from the mayoral race.

“Earth to Abby!”

Abby was jolted from her thoughts by Jackson’s amused voice.

“Sorry. I was miles away.”

“I know. Where were you?”

“Just thinking about the campaign.”

“Ah, I see.” Jackson was cleaning up after an examination, wiping down the table, sterilising the equipment.

Abby was perched on another table, watching him. She’d offered to help but he’d refused. “There’s less than a week to go now,” she said.

“It must be getting tense.”

“A little.”

“Mayor Jaha’s been to the prison,” said Jackson.

“Really? What for?” Abby was surprised, although she perhaps shouldn’t be. It was typical that Jaha would try to muscle in on Marcus’s territory when he wasn’t here.

“He was talking to the prisoners, ran a kind of political surgery to help them with questions.”

“I didn’t think prisoners were allowed to vote.”

“They’re not, but their families do, don’t they?”

“I suppose.” Marcus was going to go mad when he heard about this. There was no way he would have let Jaha into the prison if he’d been at work. Abby wondered whether she should tell him, or if it was best he didn’t know.

“Is the Governor fully recovered now?”

“He’s getting there.” Abby didn’t want to say Marcus was recovered because then Jackson would wonder why he wasn’t back at work.

“I’m surprised he’s still running for Mayor,” said Jackson as he put a fresh cover on the bed.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“With him still recovering. I thought it might be too much.”

“It will take more than a bang on the head to stop Marcus,” said Abby with a smile.

“I guess he hasn’t got to where he is without being made of strong stuff.”

“That’s right. Are you sure I can’t help you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. How’s Nate, is it? Your boyfriend?”

“He’s away on manoeuvres. He’s in the army.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s great. That he’s in the army, not that he’s away.”

Jackson shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

They fell silent, because they still weren’t at the stage in their friendship where chatting came spontaneously. Abby vowed to make more of an effort with Jackson once the election was over.

The door opened, and Marcus strode in, walking up to Abby and slipping an arm around her. “Are you ready to go?” he said.

“Yes.” Abby studied his face for a clue to how the meeting had gone but he was stoic and unreadable.

“Good to see you back, Governor Kane,” said Jackson, and Marcus looked at him and nodded.

He put pressure on Abby’s back to encourage her to move and she said goodbye to Jackson and left Medical. When they were alone in the hallway she looked up at Marcus. “How did it go?”

“Okay. I’m still in employment, so that’s one thing.”

“But?” Abby could sense Marcus was unhappy with something.

“But I have been given a written warning about my conduct.”

Abby was shocked. “What? Why?”

“I shouldn’t have paid you out of my own money. It was wrong and it doesn’t look good.”

“You were just being fair!” Abby’s outrage was clear in her voice.

Marcus’s pale cheeks warmed a little. “Well. Yes, but there was more to it than that, if I’m honest.”

Abby stopped walking and turned to look at Marcus. “Such as?”

“I wanted you to think well of me.”

Realisation dawned on Abby. He’d been trying to attract her attention. “Ah.”

“Yes, and it nearly backfired because you threw it back in my face.”

“I did not!”

“As good as.” Marcus smiled sheepishly.

“I thought you felt sorry for me, that it was a hand out, because I’d told you my husband had left me.”

“There was an element of that. I didn’t think it was fair you were working for free when you had no money.”

“It was a very lovely gesture,” she said, and she reached up and kissed his lips. “But you didn’t need to do it to get my attention.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was already interested.”

Marcus ran his dark brown eyes over her face. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t sure. You didn’t seem interested in coming to the Town Hall when I asked you.”

“Telling me you are going to be somewhere at a certain time is not exactly asking me out, Marcus,” said Abby with a laugh.

“You came though,” said Marcus softly.

“I did.”

Marcus slipped his arms around her waist and bent his head to kiss her. “I’m glad,” he whispered when he let her go.

Abby smiled. “So, you have a written warning, but no one’s going to know about that, right?”

“No. It’s on my record but as far as the press and the public are concerned there’s nothing to be excited about. The prison has already sent out a press release.”

“Saying what?”

“Something about the matter having been resolved internally and the prison service has full confidence in me and my leadership.”

“That’s fabulous!”

Marcus nodded, but he didn’t look as pleased as Abby was. “Don’t worry about your record,” said Abby. “If what you did was wrong then you just have to put it down to experience and don’t try and seduce any other women with pay cheques.”

Marcus laughed then. “There won’t be any other women,” he said.

“Good. Let’s go and campaign then.”

\---

Marcus had reserved a room at the Town Hall so he could hold an open surgery, like Jaha had done at the prison, which Abby still hadn’t told him about. She was sitting by his side behind a large ornate desk, handing leaflets and merchandise to anyone she could persuade to take it. It wasn’t the desk they’d had sex on, thankfully, but it was similar enough to make them smile at each other when they’d walked in and seen it. Abby was hoping Marcus wouldn’t be too tired later, because the memory of what they’d done in a room exactly like this was making her hot. It didn’t help that he was dressed more casually than usual, having taken her advice that dropping the shirt and tie would make him look more approachable. He was wearing his black suit with the skinny pants, and a soft black sweater. He looked handsome and sexy, with his neatly trimmed hair and his dark brown eyes and olive skin. The queue of people waiting to see him was growing longer by the minute and was predominantly female.

“You’re a hit with the old ladies,” she whispered to him when the last of a gaggle of blue-rinsed women had gone, clutching their autographed Kane for Mayor t-shirts.

“They’re very interested to know how my policies will affect them. Poverty in old age is a real problem,” Marcus said sincerely.

“I don’t think that’s what’s on their minds,” said Abby with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Marcus frowned, not comprehending Abby’s meaning.

“Never mind,” said Abby, as another giggling schoolgirl way too young to vote sidled up and fixed Marcus with a coy smile. He smiled back, oblivious, and Abby chuckled softly, earning a glare from the girl.

A couple of hours later and the queue was thankfully smaller. Marcus was tiring, Abby could tell. He’d eaten two bananas to try and boost his energy, but sometimes his eyes would close for a good second or more before he blinked awake and smiled at the next person in the queue.

“We should call it a day soon,” said Abby. “You’re tired.”

Marcus turned to her and nodded. “Yes, okay.”

“You’ll have time for one more, I hope,” said a familiar voice that made Abby’s stomach lurch. She looked up to see Caroline standing before them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” snapped Abby, so surprised she didn’t hide the annoyance in her voice.

“It’s good to see you too, Abby.” Caroline peeled off her fur-lined gloves. “I decided this was my best chance to talk to the Councillor, seeing as he couldn’t be bothered replying to my text.”

“You’re not a constituent,” said Marcus lamely.

Caroline rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Abby had forgotten about Caroline’s text with everything else that had been going on. She’d assumed Marcus had replied at the time, but after that it had slipped out of her mind.

“I still have interests in Lancaster,” said Caroline, “business interests, so that makes me a concerned individual. I need to know what the mayor is going to do for me.”

“For God’s sake,” muttered Marcus.

“No point calling on him, Marcus. It’s me you have to deal with.”

“I’m in the middle of a surgery with people who actually matter. If you want to see me you’ll have to wait.”

“I can do that.” Caroline moved to pull out a chair.

“Outside,” said Marcus. “This is a private room.”

“Fine.” Caroline picked up her gloves from the desk. “Don’t try and sneak out of the back door. I know where you live.” She flounced out of the room and Abby and Marcus looked at each other.

“What does that mean, she knows where you live?” said Abby.

“It sounded like a threat.” Marcus glowered.

“She’s not going to go away, Marcus. Let’s get this over with.”

Marcus sighed and nodded. His easy smile and small talk weren’t in place for the remaining people in the queue, who probably went away with a very different impression of Councillor Kane then the previous people had.

When the last person had gone, Marcus closed the door and stood against it. “I just want to go home,” he said.

“I know, so do I. I don’t like this, Marcus. What does she want?”

“I don’t know.” He paced the room, running his hand through his hair. “You don’t think she really is the letter writer do you?”

Abby had wondered this before, but Marcus had been so adamant that Caroline wasn’t interested in him she’d agreed that it was impossible. Now, Caroline was here, and she clearly did have an interest in Marcus. “Honestly, I think anything is possible. Maybe she has been trying to break us up all along, and it’s not about your campaign.”

“You’ll have to meet her with me.”

“I don’t know if I should. She might be more open with you if I’m not there.”

Marcus steepled his hands in front of his lips. “I don’t trust her.”

“Me either. What can we do?”

Marcus paced a few more times, then he stopped in front of Abby. “You could listen in on your phone,” he said excitedly.

“What do you mean? How?”

“Via Skype.”

“Won’t she see me?”

“No. We can do a voice-only call. I’ll call you before you leave to open the line, and you can sit outside and hear everything but she won’t know.”

Abby got butterflies in her stomach at his words, a flutter of excitement at the thought of committing this small act of subterfuge against Caroline. “Okay,” she said. “What do we do?”

“Give me your phone.” Abby handed her phone to Marcus and he dialled the Skype app and waited for it to connect. “I’ve muted your side so if you cough or anything we won’t hear you. When you hear us speaking, press this button here, and it will record the conversation.”

“You want me to record you?”

Marcus nodded. “If she’s up to no good then we’ll have proof.”

Abby put her arms around Marcus and kissed him passionately. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you.”

“Okay. You can do this. Let her do the talking like you did with Jaha.”

“Yes. You’d better go and tell her to come in. Let’s do this.”

Abby watched as Marcus opened a drawer and slipped the phone inside, leaving it ajar. She left the room, carrying her phone carefully like it was made of glass, not wanting to accidentally break the connection. She turned it away from Caroline who was sitting cross-legged on a chair outside the door.

“Marcus will see you now,” she said, her voice disdainful.

Caroline raised her eyebrows, evidently surprised that Abby wasn’t going to be in the room.

“Thank you,” she said, and went into the room, closing the heavy door behind her.

Abby sat in the seat Caroline had vacated, and turned over her phone, staring at the screen as though she could see through it into the room.

“I’m surprised you want to see me alone,” said Caroline, and Abby heard the scrape of a chair as she sat down. She pressed the record button like Marcus had shown her. “I’d expected your lap dog to be with you.”

“Abby’s not my lap dog,” said Marcus, a bitter tone to his voice. Abby could imagine him glowering at Caroline with his dark eyes.

“She’s not really your type, though, is she? I mean she’s petite yes, and she has nice tits, but an American, Marcus, really?”

“You’re not here to talk about Abby. What do you want?” Marcus’s tone was brusque, business-like. It turned Abby on to hear him so authoritative and in control. Her hands grew damp, and the phone threatened to slip from her grasp. She set her bag on her lap and balanced the phone on top so she wouldn’t have to hold it.

“Is it so surprising that I wanted to see you?”

“Yes,” replied Marcus. “You haven’t bothered for eight years.”

“Well, it was a shock to get that call from the police, to hear that you were dying. It brought up a lot of memories, and feelings.” Caroline softened her voice, sounded coy. Abby pictured her looking up at Marcus with those big black eyes. He wouldn’t fall for it though.

“I am sorry you got a call like that,” said Marcus.

“That’s...” Caroline didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before Marcus interrupted.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve changed my next of kin and beneficiaries.”

“Oh. Not to her I hope?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“No, well, it could.”

“What do you mean?” There was surprise in Marcus’s voice, and wariness.

Abby heard the rustle of clothing, and then Caroline’s voice sounded closer, as though she was leaning towards Marcus. Abby pictured what she was wearing, a low-cut white blouse and tight skirt. She was probably showing off her assets, letting him get a look at what he’d been missing. Abby’s lip curled in a snarl.

“I mean, I missed you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, about how good we were together. Then when I got the call...”

“You’re married,” said Marcus coldly.

“What if I weren’t?”

“Weren’t married?”

“Yes. What if I were to leave him, come back to you?”

“Why the hell would you want to do that? You hated me by the end.”

“Hate’s a strong word, Marcus. I was young and stupid. I regret the way I behaved with you.”

There was a silence that seemed to stretch for ages. Abby picked up her phone, checked that the connection was still good. It was. It must be Marcus, not knowing what to say to that.

“We were great in the early days,” continued Caroline. “Remember that? Remember how we stayed in bed all day, and all night. You couldn’t get enough of me.”

God, this was a nightmare to have to listen to. Abby was regretting this now, her pleasure at the subterfuge pretty much gone.

Marcus coughed. “That was a long time ago,” he said.

“It can’t be as good with her, can it? You barely know her.”

“I’m not going to discuss Abby with you.”

“That’s fine with me. I don’t want to discuss her either.”

“I still don’t understand what you want from me.” Tiredness had crept into Marcus’s voice now. He wanted to get this over.

“I told you. I want you back. I want us to be together again.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just told you. I’ve been missing you. Someone you love being involved in a near-fatal accident can cause you to rethink where your life is going, you know.”

“You haven’t loved me for a very long time.”

“But you still love me. Don’t you? I could tell the minute I walked in your hospital room. I still have an effect on you.”

Abby’s pulse picked up. She sat forward, waiting to hear Marcus’s response.

“I thought I still loved you for a long time after you left. And even when I stopped loving you, I felt guilty, like it was all my fault. If I’d been a better husband, if I’d paid you more attention, if I’d been normal and not an obsessive freak, maybe you wouldn’t have left. Maybe you’d still have loved me.”

“You can change that, Marcus. This is your opportunity.”

“What I’ve come to see,” continued Marcus, ignoring Caroline’s interruption. “What Abby has taught me, is that two people who truly love each other talk, they communicate, they see each other’s faults, they acknowledge them, they face them together. You abandoned me.”

“I...”

“You didn’t want me for me. I did everything for you and you did nothing for me.” Marcus was calm as he spoke, unhurried. “You wanted money and status, and when someone with more of both came along you left me without a second thought. What’s really happened, Caroline? Has he left you without a second thought?”

Abby’s heart had swelled so much at Marcus’s words it was painful. He was so quiet and determined. She’d thought he might be upset by Caroline’s presence, by her professions of love, but he was unperturbed. Confident, secure in Abby’s love for him, and his for her.

“I’m sorry you see things that way,” said Caroline stiffly.

“He has, hasn’t he? You’re alone. You have no money. Has he taken everything and run? Abby said you were staying at the Radisson but there isn’t a Radisson. Why did you lie?”

“That’s not why I’m here,” said Caroline in a small voice.

“Are you here because the letters haven’t worked?”

Abby drew a sharp breath at Marcus’s words. She hadn’t been expecting him to bring that up so directly with Caroline.

“What are you talking about? What letters?” Caroline sounded genuinely surprised and confused to Abby.

There was a pause before Marcus spoken again. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. So he has left you, then? That’s why you’re here.”

Another short silence followed. “Yes,” Caroline said at last.

“I’m sorry that’s happened to you. I am, but you won’t find anything here. I love Abby. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and nothing will change that.”

“You’re a fool,” said Caroline.

Marcus laughed. “You’re not the first person to say that to me recently, and he was a lying cheat as well. I’m not the fool here. Go home before you embarrass yourself more than you already have.”

A chair scraped and Abby pictured Marcus standing, trying to get Caroline to leave.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” said Caroline. “He kicked me out.”

“What did you do?”

“Who says I did anything?” Another silence, then Abby heard Caroline sigh. “It was just a fling, a dalliance, something to while away the boredom. God, I thought you were boring, but he was ten times worse.”

“You can leave now,” said Marcus, and his footsteps faded as he moved away from the phone. The door opened, and Abby hid the phone in her bag. She sat up straight, didn’t know whether to turn and look at them, or pretend she wasn’t there and stare straight ahead.

In the end it was Caroline who came out first. She glared at Abby as she passed. “You’re welcome to him,” she said, and then she left.

Abby stood, and Marcus beckoned her into the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Did you hear everything?” he said.

“Yes. I KNEW she wanted you back. I had a feeling.”

Marcus shook his head in exasperation. “It’s bizarre. I can’t get my head around it.”

“She’s lost her current husband so the easiest thing to do is to go back to the previous husband.”

“She didn’t reckon on you being here, though.” Marcus pulled Abby into a hug, kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry you had to hear some of that. I thought she was going to try and blackmail me or something. I didn’t realise it was going to be so personal.”

“I thought you were perfect. You handled her brilliantly.” Abby put her arms around him, held him close.

“You’re better than her in every way.”

“You don’t have to reassure me,” said Abby, although it felt good that he had. She did need to hear it, and it was shocking to her how jealous she’d felt listening to Caroline, how competitive the woman made her.

“I know, but I want to. I should tell you these things every day.”

“You don’t need to. I already know.”

Marcus smiled, and kissed her. “Extraordinary,” he said, his warm eyes twinkling.

“There is one thing, something that you said.”

“What’s that?” Marcus said, nuzzling her hair.

“Your obsessions, your quirks. I don’t see them as faults, Marcus. They’re part of you. I love them as much as I love you, because they are you.”

He didn’t speak, just pulled her tighter to him, and Abby felt wet splashes on her hair, where his face was buried in it. She put her hands on either side of his head, lifted it away so she could look at him. She kissed his damp cheeks, trailed her lips along the tracks of his tears. Marcus moaned, and took her face in his hands, bringing her lips to his. They kissed passionately. Abby’s blood was heating. She dropped her hands to his belt, started to undo it.

“We can’t,” moaned Marcus into her mouth.

“Yes.” Abby fumbled the prong out of the frame, started to thread the leather through.

“Not here,” said Marcus. “It’s the middle of the day. Someone will come in.”

“My place, then. It’s closer.”

“Yes.” He fastened up his buckle, grabbed his phone, and they half-walked, half-ran to his car. Marcus put it into gear and sped up the hill to Abby’s cottage. Abby caressed him as he drove, her hand stroking the bulge his cock was making in his pants.

“You’re going to kill us,” Marcus said, but he didn’t make her take her hand away.

They barely managed to shut the front door before they were all over each other.

“You’re so sexy in this outfit,” Abby said as she ran her hands up under his jacket and slipped it from his shoulders. Marcus shrugged out of it and left it on the floor.

“Is that why you want me out of it?” he said as he unbuttoned her red blouse, peeling it down her arms. It joined his jacket on the floor.

“Yes.” Abby ran her hands over the sweater where his pecs were bulging. “Because you’ll be sexier out of it.” Marcus held his arms up so she could pull his sweater over his head.

He reached behind her, unfastened her bra, let it drift to the floor before stroking her stiff nipples with his thumbs. Abby groaned. Her fingers returned to his belt, ripping the leather out of the frame, fumbling with his zipper, yanking his pants and underwear down in one so they pooled at his ankles. He kicked them away. She grabbed his stiff cock, squeezed it, stroked it from root to tip.

“God I want you,” groaned Marcus. “I want you all the time, every minute of every day.” He unzipped her skirt, and it floated to the ground. Abby stepped out of it, hooked her thumbs in her knickers and eased them down as well. Marcus’s fingers were immediately between her legs, stroking her, slipping inside her easily she was so wet. His thumb stroked her clit while his fingers were fucking her. He kissed her, his lips stifling her moans as he thrust deeper, curling the tips of his fingers, seeking out the good spots. Abby cried out as she rode his hand. She didn’t care how loud she was, how naked her desire was. It was freeing, having her needs understood, celebrated. The more turned on she was, the more turned on Marcus was. She came with a loud cry, Marcus’s fingers deep inside her, her muscles clenching around them, not letting them go.

“God,” Abby said, but Marcus didn’t let her rest. He lifted her, pressed her against the wall. Abby wrapped her legs around him and he pushed inside her while she was still throbbing. He let out a long groan, and slid out slowly, then back in again. Abby held her breath, waiting for him to move faster, but he took it slow, let her feel every inch of him. It was delicious.

“I fantasised about you doing this to me when I first met you,” Abby said breathily.

“I know. I remember you saying.”

“We never did it properly, though. Not like this.”

“We are now.” Marcus increased his tempo gradually until it became frantic, and they were slamming against each other. A picture fell off the wall and smashed on the floor but they ignored it. Marcus linked his fingers through hers and lifted her arms so they were held above her head, pinning her to the wall. Abby pressed her heels into his back to hold herself in place. The friction he was creating with his thrusts, and the slam of his pelvis against hers was warming Abby’s sex. She was going to come again. Marcus groaned as she spasmed around him, emptying into her with every pulse of his heart. They were both breathing heavily, unable to speak. He pressed his hot forehead against hers.

“There’s no one like you,” he whispered.

“There’s no one like you,” Abby said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He slipped out of her, lowered her to her unsteady feet. He caught her when she stumbled, her muscles weak from the tension of clinging on to him so tightly. “Was that as good as in your fantasy?” he said.

Abby gave him a long look as she flopped on the sofa, pulling him down next to her. “Better. Much, much better.”

They grinned at each other as they lay back. Abby put her legs on Marcus, and he stroked them.

“You’re naked on my sofa,” Abby said, and she laughed.

“I am,” said Marcus.

“I’ll disinfect it later,” said Abby mischievously, and Marcus tickled her behind her knee, causing her to shriek and try to fight him off. They wrestled with each other, ending up lying side by side. Marcus held out his arm and Abby curled into him.

“It doesn’t get better than this,” said Marcus, and it was Abby’s turn to feel her eyes grow damp.


	21. No Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The election nears, and the stakes get higher.

It was Tuesday morning, two days before the election, and Abby was stretched out on the sofa in Marcus’s living room, her computer balanced on her lap, searching the internet. It was a grey, misty day with no view, but the fire was roaring, and it was cosy in the house. She wasn’t keen on having to leave to go to the prison later but needs must. She switched to a different screen when she heard Marcus coming down the stairs. He was dressed for work in his dark blue suit, and he smiled at her before going into the kitchen. Abby flicked back to her search screen while he did whatever he was doing, and then closed the lid of the laptop completely when he came over to her, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He set it down on the table next to Abby.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re welcome.” He leaned in to kiss her. “I’ve made you a salad for your lunch. It’s in the fridge.”

“You’re too good to me.”

Marcus kissed her again, and she put her arm around his neck, let her fingers slide into his hair. He moaned as he parted from her. “It’s so hard to go to work these days.” He stood, picked up his briefcase from the table. “What are you going to do this morning?”

“I have some administration to do for the gallery website. Raven wants to Skype about it tonight, and she gave me homework I haven’t done yet.”

“You’ve been busy with other things,” Marcus said with a smirk.

“I don’t think spending all my spare time in bed with you is a good excuse.”

“Seems like it to me.” Marcus grinned, then he bent his head once more to kiss her. “I love you. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay. Love you too.”

He left, and Abby waited to hear the roar of his Aston Martin as it sped down the road before opening her computer again. She felt guilty for lying to him, because she’d done the things Raven had asked last week, but she wasn’t ready for him to know what she was doing yet. He wouldn’t be happy that she was spending her time on this, and there was no point burdening him with something that might turn out to be nothing.

She returned to her browser, utilising tricks Raven had taught her to do a deep search. It never ceased to amaze her how much you could find out about someone on the internet. People had no qualms about putting every detail about themselves and their lives out for everyone to read. It had taken her no time at all to find names, addresses and phone numbers of people she’d never met. The information she wanted was more hidden than that, though, and there was no guarantee she would find what she needed to know.

\---

She had a productive and enjoyable session at the prison that afternoon, worth the hair-raising drive through the mist she’d undertaken to get there. Murphy was becoming indispensable, and she usually left him to set up the room and clear it afterwards. This time, though, she lingered while he was putting away the equipment.

“How are you, John?” she said.

He looked at her in surprise. “Me? I’m full of the joys of life, Mrs Kane, thanks for asking.” His dead-pan tone as he said this made Abby want to laugh. He was a sarcastic little bugger, as Marcus would say. Calling her Mrs Kane was his latest way of teasing her.

“How’s your mum?”

Murphy shrugged. “I don’t know. Okay I guess. Haven’t seen her in a while.” He folded up one of the easels, then looked at her slyly. “How’s the Governor? Has he popped the question yet?”

“What question would that be?” Abby said, although she knew full well. It was a game Murphy liked to play with her.

“You’ll have your work cut out, making an honest man out of him,” said Murphy.

“You’re assuming I want an honest man.”

“You like a bad boy, do you?” he said, his voice low.

Abby smiled. “I was talking to someone the other day, actually, while I was on the campaign trail.”

“God, that must be boring, following the Governor around all the time.” He folded another easel, stood it next to the first. Abby snapped the lids shut on some of the paints.

“Your name came up in the conversation.”

Murphy stopped what he was doing, looked at Abby. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Who was it?”

“I forget the name. They all blur into one after a while.”

“Was it a girl? Did she tell you I was a sex god?” He looked at Abby suggestively.

Abby ignored his comment. “No. It was someone who’d heard about my work here. They said your father had died not long before you were sent to prison. Is that true?”

Murphy’s face grew dark. “Yeah, so what?”

“Nothing. I was just interested. I wondered if it was true.”

“He was a good man. He didn’t deserve what happened.”

“What happened?” Abby knew, because she’d spent the morning researching Murphy’s past. There was no person on the campaign trail; the internet was her informer. It mainly dealt in facts, though, and she wanted to hear the real story, if Murphy would tell her.

“He was killed during a robbery. Well, afterwards, in the chase. The police rammed him off the road.”

Abby had read about this, how Murphy’s father was part of a gang that robbed a store in Lancaster and was caught as he drove the getaway car from the scene. There’d been a high-speed chase, and he’d crashed and died at the scene. It was a terrible story, but Abby had a feeling there was more to it than the newspapers had reported.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Why do you care?” said Murphy as he turned his back on Abby and pretended to tidy the paints, a task which required him to run the backs of his hands over his eyes. Abby gave him the space. She started to put away the rest of the equipment, thinking that working and talking might be easier for Murphy.

“I wondered if it had anything to do with why you’re in here. You told me once you didn’t do what you were jailed for.”

“Oh, I did it alright.” Murphy turned to look at her with a glare. “I burned that fucker’s house down to the ground!” He put his hands on his hips and fixed Abby with a challenging stare.

“What fucker? I thought you were innocent?” Abby was confused. She’d started this because she wanted to clear his name, to gather evidence to show Marcus so he would look into Murphy’s case. Now he was saying he’d done it all along.

“In my mind I am innocent, because that guy got what he deserved, and if he hadn’t done what he did, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“What guy? What do he do?”

“The policeman. The one who crashed into my dad.”

Abby shook her head in confusion. “You’ve lost me. What does he have to do with what you did?”

“It was his house I burnt down.”

“Oh. Because he killed your dad?” She’d got Murphy all wrong. He’d done something in a kind of twisted revenge on the policeman who he saw as being responsible for his dad’s death. It was a good job she hadn’t told Marcus before she’d found out the truth.

“Because he murdered my dad.”

Abby was shocked at Murphy’s statement. “What?”

“He was behind the robberies. My dad knew that, and that fucking copper took him out so he wouldn’t grass him up.”

It took Abby a couple of seconds to understand what Murphy was saying. He was talking fast in his Lancashire accent using phrases she didn’t understand. “The policeman made your father crash on purpose so he wouldn’t tell others about the robberies?”

“Now she’s getting it.” Murphy folded his arms and cocked his head as he looked at Abby. “Why do you want to know all this?”

“I was just interested, like I said. Do you have proof of any of this?”

“Some. I tried to tell people, the police, the newspapers, but no one was interested. He was smirking at me, getting away with it, so I set fire to his fucking house. It was just a shame he wasn’t in it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Murphy shrugged and stared at Abby.

“Where’s the proof?”

“In my bedroom at home.”

“What is it?”

“Some photographs, notes my father took. I showed them my brief when I was arrested but he said it wasn’t enough.”

“Can I see it?”

Murphy frowned. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Show it Governor Kane.”

“You’re having a laugh if you think he’ll help me,” Murphy laughed, shook his head.

“He will, John. I promise.”

“Why? Because he’s soft on you? He isn’t soft on me.”

“Governor Kane isn’t the man you think he is.” Murphy rolled his eyes, but Abby persisted. “Does it matter why he does it, as long as he does?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs help, John. Let me help you.” Abby reached out, put her hand on Murphy’s arm. He didn’t pull away, which she took as a good sign.

“Nothing will happen,” he said.

“Then there’s nothing to lose,” replied Abby. She took her hand from Murphy. “I have my cell phone. Let me call your mum now. I could be picking them up on my way home.”

Murphy sighed and thought for a couple of seconds. “Okay.”

\---

Half an hour later and Abby was on her way back to Marcus’s house, the papers tucked into her bag. Mary Murphy had been surprised to hear Abby and John on the phone, even more so when she’d realised what they wanted. She’d been eager to give the papers to Abby, though. Abby only hoped she was doing the right thing, that she wasn’t getting up their hopes for no reason. Marcus would help, though, once he had the facts. She knew he would.

It was dark and foggy on the drive home. Abby’s headlights seemed to bounce off the grey fog as she navigated slowly along the narrow road and around the tight bends. She was more confident on the road than when she’d first driven to Marcus’s house, but these conditions were making her heart pound and she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

As she reached the brow of the hill two lights suddenly appeared in front of her, blinding her for a moment. She put her foot on the brake automatically, bringing her car to a shuddering halt, but then realised the lights were to the side of the road, in the layby where she’d stopped to look out over the sea all those months ago. Abby put a hand to her racing heart and laughed softly. You’re an idiot, she said as she put the Volvo in gear and started to move. Suddenly, the car with the headlights revved its engine, and shot out of the layby towards her. Fuck! Abby swerved, narrowly avoiding hitting the car, but her tyres struck the soft edge of the road and she lost traction, turning the steering wheel helplessly as she headed inexorably for a deep ditch that ran alongside the lane.

The car came to an abrupt halt, and Abby was flung forward, but her seatbelt prevented her from hitting her head on the wheel. She was shaken, but otherwise unharmed. She tried to put the car into reverse, but it was pointless. She was well and truly stuck. She turned to look back at the road. There was no sign of the car. What kind of idiot drove like that? The driver must have seen her, must have known she’d had to avoid him or her. Why hadn’t they stopped to check on her, to help?  She fumbled in her bag for her purse, switched it on. There was a signal, thank god.

She called Marcus, but he didn’t pick up. What was she going to do now? It wasn’t that far to the house, half a mile or so. She’d have to walk. She didn’t relish the thought of walking in this fog, but it was better than sitting here in a ditch in the freezing cold. Abby pushed open her door and stepped out, sinking up to her calves in cold, dirty ditch water. Fuck! It overtopped her boots and soaked her feet. Double fuck! She climbed out of the ditch and stood on the road, pulling off each boot to let the water out before putting them back on and setting off to squelch down the road.

She could barely see her hands in front of her face the fog was so dense. She put her head down so she could see the road surface and walked blindly into the silent night. A quarter of an hour or so after she’d started walking Abby’s phone rang. It was Marcus.

“Marcus!” she said, so relieved to hear his voice she couldn’t get another word out.

“Abby, oh my God you’re okay!” He was breathless, his voice tight with fear.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I saw your car in the ditch. I nearly had a heart attack. What’s happened? Where are you?”

“I had an accident. I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m ahead of you on the road, walking home.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.” He didn’t disconnect the call, and Abby could hear the slam of his car door, the roar of the engine as he sped up the road towards her. She waited until she could hear his car for real, not just down the phone.

“I can hear you,” she said. “Slow down. I’m just ahead on the road.”

“Okay. Switch your phone torch on then maybe I can see you.”

Abby did as he asked. The sound of the car grew closer, but quieter as Marcus slowed to a crawl. His headlights appeared around the bend and Abby waved her phone at him. He stopped the car, flung open the door and ran towards her, enveloping her in a hug.

“Thank God you’re okay.” He kissed her and held her tight.

“I’m fine,” said Abby.

“Are you sure? Did you hit your head?” Marcus ran his fingers gently over her face, peering at her in the gloom.

“I didn’t hit my head.” Abby shivered under his touch.

“You’re cold. Let’s get you home.” Marcus led her to his car and fastened her in. He got into the driver’s seat and drove the short distance to the house. Abby’s teeth were chattering she was so cold, and she thought perhaps shock was setting in.

“Go and get a hot shower,” said Marcus when they were inside the house. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Abby showered and pulled on the warmest sweater and pants she could find but she was still shaking with cold or shock. When she went downstairs the fire was burning and Marcus was sitting on the sofa. Two mugs of tea sat steaming on the table. He held out his arm to Abby and she curled up next to him.

“I was so frightened when I saw your car,” he said as he stroked her hair, pressing a soft kiss to it.

“It must have been a shock, I’m sorry. I tried to call you.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I realised you’d called. I was driving. I should have answered it.”

“Then you could have had an accident.”

“I know. You’re right. What happened? Was it the fog?”

“Sort of. There was another car. I had to swerve to miss it, and I ended up in the ditch.”

“Another car? Up here?”

“It was parked in the layby but I didn’t realise that at first. I just saw headlights looming at me, and I was dazzled. I stopped the car, and then just as I was setting off again it pulled out of the layby and headed towards me. I had to avoid it.”

Marcus pulled away so he could look at her. “It headed towards you? Deliberately?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It must have seen me. I had my fog lights on.”

“And the driver didn’t stop after you went off the road?”

Abby shook her head. “They just kept driving.”

“Bastards! They must have seen you. Why didn’t they stop?”

“It was probably kids,” said Abby quietly, but she knew from the way Marcus’s arm tightened around her that he didn’t believe that anymore than she did. After the letters, and his attack, there were no coincidences.

I didn’t see another car,” mused Marcus. “They must have taken a side road. Did you get any details at all? A make, a colour?”

“I just saw headlights, Marcus. It was foggy and they blinded me.” She sat up so she could take a sip of her tea. Her hand was shaking as she gripped the mug. She saw Marcus look, and then his dark eyes turned on her, full of concern.

“It’s not your fault. It’s him. It’s the stalker.”

Abby didn’t even try to come up with another explanation. “Do you think he was in the house again?”

“I don’t know. Shall I take a look?”

Abby nodded, and Marcus got up and moved around the house, checking every room, every cupboard, looking to see if anything was out of place. He disappeared upstairs and when he came back down he had a warm tartan blanket. “This was mine, when I was a kid,” he said, and he tucked it around Abby’s shoulders. “I always found it comforting.”

Abby pulled it tight around her. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t see any signs anyone was here, but then there weren’t signs last time, apart from the obvious.”

“He might not have been in the house. It might not have been him.”

“No. It might not have been.” He stood looking down at her. “I’m going to make some soup. You need something warm inside you.”

“I’m not hungry, Marcus.”

“It will do you good. Get some rest.”

He went into the kitchen and started banging pots around louder than he normally would. He was angry, and Abby thought he was making dinner so he had something to do, something to take his aggression out on. She lay down and listened as he attacked the vegetables with a knife, slicing through them so hard the knife clattered against the board with every stroke.

She woke to the comforting aroma of onions and herbs and her stomach growled despite her assertion that she wasn’t hungry. Marcus was sitting on the other sofa reading a book when she opened her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at her. He seemed calmer now, more relaxed.

“Hey. Was I asleep long?”

“A couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours? Wow!” Abby was shocked. She thought she’d only closed her eyes for a few minutes.

“It’s the shock probably. How do you feel?”

“Better.” Abby sat up, rubbed her neck. Marcus noticed her action.

“Is your neck sore? You could have jarred it in the crash. I’ll take you to the doctor’s tomorrow.”

“It was quite a slow-speed crash, Marcus. I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll see in the morning. Do you want some soup?”

Abby nodded. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll warm it up.” He headed into the kitchen.

“Can I help at all?”

“No. I’ve got it under control.”

Abby followed him. “At least let me set the table. I’m fine, honestly.”

Marcus tutted but he didn’t argue with her. Abby laid out the cutlery, and the glasses, and retrieved the warmed bowls from the Aga. They sat in their usual places to eat.

The soup was warm and comforting. “What is it?” asked Abby.

“It’s what I call a Marcus Mixture, i.e. whatever I have in the cupboard.”

“Have you always cooked?” said Abby as she blew on her spoon to cool the soup.

“Pretty much, although I really started to get into it when I moved in here. I found it relaxing when I got home from work, and there was no one else to do it, so I had to.” He smiled as he broke some bread and dipped it in the soup.

“You’re a natural.”

“I always try to be the best in everything I do.” He smirked at her, and Abby grinned.

“You’re a natural at that too.”

“You mean the art of love,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“I meant at boasting about yourself, but yes, that too.”

Marcus laughed. “Remember when you told me my head was too big?”

“Yes! In my studio. I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember everything.”

“Of course you do.” Abby smiled as she ate the rest of her soup. He’d softened so much since she’d first met him, revealing a tender, caring side that she loved, but it was good to see his big-headed pompous side now and then as well. She still found it ridiculously attractive.

“I have to Skype Raven soon,” said Abby when they’d finished dinner.

“I’m going to call the private investigator, see if he has any news and update him on this latest business.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“I’ll be in my office if you need me. Are you okay out here?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll sit here while I talk to her.”

Marcus cleared the pots away, cleaned and tidied.

“We need to sort you your own office or studio,” he said, “so you can have your space.” He kissed her head.

Abby’s heart lurched. “Here?”

Marcus nodded. “There’s plenty of land. I could build an extension. You could design it, make it whatever you want. Lots of light.”

“I. There’s no rush.”

“No, there’s no rush, but think about it.”

“Okay.”

Marcus disappeared down the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Abby was left sitting at the table, stunned at his proposal. It was very generous, and unexpected. Making her a permanent part of his home, giving her control over it. This was a huge step, and he’d mentioned it so casually. Abby didn’t know whether he didn’t think it was a big deal, or he thought it was a very big deal but he didn’t want it to seem that way. Either way, it was a lot to consider. No time for that now, though, because it was time to speak to Raven.

She opened the program and waited for Raven to answer the call. The girl’s smiley face filled the screen and Abby forgot all the horrible things that had happened earlier.

“Hey gorgeous!” said Raven.

“Hey you. How are you doing?”

“I’m super! How’s life with your hunky Scottish guy?”

“It’s great. We’re doing great.”

“Are you at his house now?”

“Yes.”

“Ooh, give me the tour.”

Abby lifted the laptop and turned it slowly so Raven could see her surroundings.

“Are those pictures of you on the wall?”

“Oh, erm, yes. Don’t look at those.” Abby turned the laptop away from the triptych of photos from their session that Marcus had framed and put in a private nook near the kitchen.

“Oh my God, you’re so bad!”

Abby blushed. “I forgot about those.”

“Damn girl. Do I get to meet him?”

“What, now?”

“Well better now than at the wedding.” Raven laughed.

“There won’t be a wedding.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’ll see if he’s free. Behave yourself, though.”

Raven folded her hands in a prayer gesture and bent her head. “I’ll be good.”

“One moment.”

Abby walked to Marcus’s office. She hesitated before knocking. She felt like a schoolgirl, asking her beau if he would meet her girlfriends. It was normal though, right? People introduced the special people in their lives. She knocked softly.

“Yes?”

Abby entered the room. “Do you have a second?”

Marcus swivelled in his chair. “Of course.”

“Only it’s just, well, Raven would like to say hi to you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s excited to meet you.”

“She was the one who called me hot?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well then I have to meet her.” Marcus followed Abby into the dining room. He sat in Abby’s seat.

“Hello. I’m Marcus Kane,” he said stiffly, and Abby stifled a laugh at his formality.

“Raven Reyes. It’s good to meet you at last.”

“Likewise.”

“Are you treating my girl well?”

“Of course.” Marcus glanced at Abby, his brow creased in a frown. Abby smiled.

“She’s teasing,” she whispered. Marcus nodded.

“Good, cause I’m assuming she told you I know people. Bad people.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Good.” Raven smiled. “So, Marcus Kane, I heard that you’re Scottish.”

“I am.”

“Can you say something in Scottish.”

“Raven!” said Abby, putting her head next to Marcus’s so Raven could see her.

“You two are so cute together!” said Raven.

“Gabhaidh mi cùram air Abby,” said Marcus, in a language Abby had never heard him speak before.

“What’s that mean?” said Raven.

“Look it up.”

“I couldn’t tell what you said.”

Marcus repeated the words slowly. “I heard you’re a clever woman. You’ll figure it out. Nice to meet you.” He stood up and winked at Abby before heading back to his office.

Abby sat back in her seat.

“He’s a hoot!” said Raven.

“I don’t know what he said. I’ve never heard him talk like that before.”

“Gimme a sec.” Raven disappeared from the screen, and when she returned she was grinning broadly. “I really like him, Abby. He’s a keeper.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“I recorded his voice when he spoke and put it through some translation software. He was speaking Scottish Gaelic. He said, ‘I will take care of Abby’.”

Abby’s pulsed picked up. “That’s nice.”

“Nice? It’s fricking awesome!”

“Yeah.” She smiled at Raven. “He makes me so happy.”

“You deserve it. You deserve someone decent, and sexy as hell! You weren’t wrong there.”

“Okay, okay. Enough about him. How’s the website coming along?”

“Did you do the homework I set you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s have a look at your thoughts then.”

Abby and Raven spent the next hour going through ideas, making decisions about how the website would look and work. Marcus came through once to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but returned to his office, leaving Abby to it.

“I think that’s everything I need,” said Raven when they’d gone as far as they could. “I should have the changes made by this time next week.”

“That would be great!”

“Are you ready to start selling some paintings?”

Abby took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Okay, good. You’ll have to ship them yourself, so that means sorting out tubes and shit like that.”

“I’ll go to the post office in Lancaster next week, see what they can do.”

“Fabulous!”

“Thanks for helping me, Raven. About your pay...”

“Don’t worry about my pay.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m getting out of paying you, because it’s not as if Marcus doesn’t have money, and he would give it me if I asked.”

“I know, but you said you wanted to do this yourself, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll wait until you make your first sale.”

Abby blew a kiss towards the screen. “Thank you.”

“No worries. Okay I have to get going. Lots to do. I love you!”

“I love you too. Bye.”

Abby closed the laptop and sat back. It was so good talking to Raven, making plans for the gallery. It was close now, just a week away and she’d be back. Abby Griffin, artist, gallery owner. It sounded wonderful.

She put the kettle on to boil, got two cups out and the teapot. The door opened and Marcus appeared. “Did you smell the kettle?” said Abby with a smile.

“I always know when tea is being made. We Brits are born with a seventh sense you know.”

“I do know.”

She made them a decaff tea and they sat on the sofa while Abby told Marcus all about the gallery and he told her that the private investigator was hopeful he’d have some information for them in the next couple of days.

Abby’s phone pinged with an email. “It must be Raven with some more questions.” The email wasn’t from Raven, though. It was from someone called MarcusKane75. Abby frowned. “Have you changed your email address?”

Marcus looked at her oddly. “No. Why?”

“There’s an email from someone called MarcusKane75.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yes.”

“Let me see.” Abby handed the phone to Kane and watched as he opened the email. “There’s no text, just attachments.”

“Oh, God, Marcus.” Abby’s heart was thumping hard. It was from him, the stalker. It had to be.

Marcus pressed on the phone with his finger, and his face paled as she looked at the screen.

“What now?” said Abby, her skin feeling like it was crawling with refrigerated ants.

“It’s our pictures. The ones I took of you.” He showed her the phone and Abby took it and scrolled through the attachments. There were four pictures, the most explicit ones Marcus had taken.

“Oh, God, Oh, God,” said Abby.

As she said that the phone pinged again with another email. She opened it with shaky fingers.

_If I can’t have justice, I will have revenge. Make him concede now, or everyone will see these._

She showed it to Marcus. “He must have got them when he broke into the house, went through your computer.”

Marcus steepled his fingers in front of his face, took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll withdraw from the race.”

Abby was alarmed at his defeatist attitude. “No, Marcus. You are NOT doing that.”

“I am. We’ve been threatened, attacked and you’ve been run off the road. What’s next, Abby? I’m mot risking your safety or your reputation. It’s over.”

He stood and Abby grabbed his hand, looking up at him as he towered over her. “Don’t make any rash decisions, Marcus, please.”

“You can’t change my mind, Abby.” He shook off her hand and headed towards his office but Abby leapt up and ran after him. She caught him, spun him around to face her.

“This doesn’t just affect you, you know.”

“I know that! I’m doing this for you.”

“No, you’re doing this for you. I’ve told you I don’t want you to concede.”

“It’s the only way.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t my wishes count?”

He sighed angrily. “Of course they do.”

“But you’re going to ignore them anyway.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“If you go in there and send a resignation email to Jaha then that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“What do you want from me? I’m trying to protect you!” His voice was frustrated and angry.

“I don’t need your protection. Not like this.” Abby tried to keep her own voice calm, but it was hard because she was scared not just of the stalker but for Marcus who was about to throw away everything he’d worked for.

“You will regret it, Marcus. I know you will,” she continued.

“I don’t see how I can regret keeping you safe.”

“I’ve run away from my problems before. It doesn’t work. I’m not going to run away again. You’re running away, Marcus.”

Marcus’s eyes flashed. He pointed a long finger at her. “I am not! I do not run away from trouble.”

“Yes, you do. You ran away and built your house out here all on your own, cutting yourself off from everybody. You ran away from your past and from your future, Marcus. You ran away from trust and love. I know it because I did the same. We are the same.”

She worried she’d gone too far with those words. They sounded harsh when she played them back in her head. Marcus ran his fingers through his hair, and then he sighed deeply.

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you are, it’s just...”

Abby took his hand from his hair and held it in hers. “We’re in this together, remember?”

Marcus nodded. “I know.”

Abby kissed his hand. “Okay, so I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll sleep on it. You promise me you won’t do anything tonight, and you won’t do anything at all without discussing it with me first.”

Marcus closed his eyes for a long time. “I won’t,” he said at last. “I promise.”

“Good. Let’s go to bed, get some sleep if we can. The problem will still be here tomorrow, and we can deal with it then.”

They locked up the house and went to bed. Sleep was a long time coming for both of them.


	22. The Election

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Election Day. Will Marcus and Abby attend, and if they do, what is the stalker going to do about it?

Abby stood in front of the full-length mirror in what was once Marcus’s spare room and was now her dressing room. She fiddled with the jacket on her suit, pulling it down, straightening the sleeves. She felt hemmed in, confined within the straight lines and the dark funereal colour, but it was the smartest thing she owned, and she wanted to look the part for Marcus tonight.

She stepped out into the hallway just as Marcus was coming out of their bedroom. He stopped and frowned.

“What are you wearing?”

“A suit. What do you think?”

He looked her up and down and pulled a face. “Who kidnapped my Abby?”

“What do you mean?” Abby looked down at herself. She was neat and presentable.

“It’s not you.”

“I want to look good for you.”

“Then look good the way you want, not the way you think you should look.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Do you? Where’s your red dress, or that black one with the zip all the way up the back?”

“I didn’t think they’d be appropriate.”

Marcus shook his head and smiled. “I love you. Go and put on something you really want to wear. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Abby rummaged through her closet, pulled out dress after dress until she decided on a white mini-dress with a plunging neckline and translucent lace sleeves. She added silver strappy high-heeled sandals and finished the look with the earrings Marcus had bought her and a delicate silver bracelet. The dress showed off her long legs, her cleavage and her décolletage, all of her best assets. If she was going to go down in flames tonight, she was going to go down looking amazing. Marcus was right. She felt good like this, even if everyone would look at her, and the likes of Diana Sydney would comment. What the hell. Who cared what they thought?

She walked down the stairs and Marcus was waiting for her, watching her descent. He shook his head when he saw her, a huge smile on his face.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and he walked towards her, kissed her cheek. “Stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I get a picture of you, to mark the occasion?”

“Yes, if you like.”

Marcus picked up his camera and took a few pictures of her posing in the living room.

“Say Kane for Mayor.”

“What?” Abby laughed, and Marcus clicked the camera one more time. He looked at the shot. “That’s the one,” he said, and he showed her the picture of her laughing at him.

“I like it,” said Abby. “Let me take one of you.”

Marcus handed her the camera and she took some pictures of him.

“Smile!”

“I am smiling.”

“No, you’re not.”

“This is a very serious moment.” Marcus looked at her deadpan and Abby clicked the camera.

As soon as she’d put the camera down he smiled.

“You bastard,” she said.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Are you ready to go?”

“In a minute.” Abby rummaged in her purse, pulled out a small black box. “I got you something for your big day.” She held out the box to Marcus and he took it.

“For me?”

“Yes.”

She watched him carefully for his reaction as he opened the lid, looked inside.

“Oh, wow,” he said, and he looked up at her with those warm brown eyes she loved so much.

“It’s the Scottish thistle and the Californian poppy.”

“I can see that, yes.” He took one of the cufflinks out of the box, turned it over in his fingers, examining the delicate silver filigree of the intertwined flowers. “They’re beautiful.”

Abby smiled, pleased he liked them. “I designed them myself, and an old contact in London made them for me. I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them.”

“Shall I put them on for you?”

“Yes please.”

Abby removed the cufflinks he’d already worn and replaced them with hers. Marcus turned his wrists over, ran his fingers over each of the cufflinks. “They’re perfect.”

“They look good on you.”

“Thank you for these. Thank you for everything.”

“I want them to bring you luck tonight. You deserve this.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “I already got lucky.” He put his hands on either side of Abby’s face and brought her lips to his, kissing her deeply.

“You’re going to rock this. I have faith in you,” she said when they parted.

Marcus gave her a half smile, but there was pain in it.

“Hey,” said Abby, taking his hands in hers. “We face it all together, no matter what. That’s what we agreed.”

“Are you sure? It’s not too late to back out.”

“No. We’re not backing out. So what if people see my boobs in those pictures, they’re great boobs!”

“They are.” Marcus grinned.

Abby knew it was more than that, more than her breasts that were on show in the stolen photos, and so did Marcus, but it didn’t matter. It was the human body, and people who couldn’t stand to look at it could take a long jump off a short cliff.

“Are you ready?”

Marcus nodded.

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” Abby took his hand and they left the house. Marcus opened the door of his Aston Martin for her, and Abby tucked herself inside. They sped down the road to the Town Hall, and whatever fate awaited them.

The Town Hall was already busy when Abby and Marcus arrived. They walked through the ornate double doors hand in hand. Abby’s heart was racing, and Marcus’s hand was hot and sweaty where it gripped hers. They were both nervous, unsure what they would face tonight. The stalker would know that Marcus hadn’t conceded the race because there had been no announcement in the media and voting had been taking place all day. What would he or she do when they realised their bluff had been called? Would they release the photos anyway? Marcus was convinced they would show up in person to cause trouble but Abby wasn’t so sure. Everything they’d done so far had been underhand and anonymous. Would they really go for the spectacular?

Either way, not knowing whether, when or how your life was going to implode didn’t make for a relaxing evening. The results of the election almost seemed insignificant. Almost.

They walked through the crowd, Abby scanning everyone’s faces as she went, just like she had months ago at the rally when the letters were still new. The stakes were a lot higher this time, and she paid more attention. Lots of people wanted to shake Marcus’s hand. Some of them gave Abby funny looks, but she thought on average more of them smiled at her or said hello. A tray of drinks was offered to them, and both Abby and Marcus took an orange juice. They’d decided not to drink that night, not even in celebration if he won.

“Are you okay?” said Marcus, turning to Abby and looking at her with concern.

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yes. Don’t leave my side tonight no matter what. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Abby clinked her glass against Marcus’s. “Let’s keep vigilant but try to enjoy the night.”

Marcus nodded. “There’s only half an hour before the count begins. Did you cast your vote?”

“No! I forgot about that!” Abby laughed.

“Let’s do it now. I have to cast my vote as well.”

They made their way to the long row of tables at the far end of the hall where the ballot box was sitting. A photographer approached them and took a photo of Abby casting her vote and then one of Marcus, followed by one of the two of them together, arms around each other, smiling as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

“My jaw is going to be aching from all this fake smiling by the end of the night,” whispered Abby through gritted teeth.

“Only three more hours to go,” said Kane with a roll of his eyes.

A small round of applause went up on the far side of the room, and Abby and Marcus turned to see what was happening. They looked back at each other and Abby saw her own shock and surprise echoed in Marcus’s face.

“What the hell is she doing here?” said Abby.

“I don’t know. I thought we’d got rid of her for good.”

Abby watched as Jaha walked through the crowd, glad-handing everyone whether they held their hands out to him or not, followed by a small dark-haired woman in an expensive-looking tight-fitting suit and high heels. Caroline.

Abby watched as the pair made their way towards her and Marcus.

“Your mouth is open,” said Marcus under his breath.

“Sorry. I’m just in shock.” Abby closed her mouth and plastered a fake smile to her face as Jaha and Caroline approached.

“Kane. Abby,” said Jaha. “Look who I bumped into the other day.” He gestured proudly towards Caroline who also fake-smiled.

“What an amazing coincidence!” said Abby, unable and unwilling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Isn’t it?” said Jaha, oblivious. “I was heading for lunch at my club on Monday as usual and she was walking past. We ended up talking for hours. I didn’t make it back to work.” He laughed knowingly and Abby wanted to throw up at his smug innuendo.

“It’s a good idea to vary your schedule. You never know who’s lying in wait for you.” Abby fixed Caroline with a challenging stare. Caroline raised an eyebrow in return. Jaha frowned.

“Pure coincidence,” said Caroline. “I was about to go home after a weekend of shopping. If he’d been a few seconds later I would have missed him.”

“Amazing,” said Abby. “What luck.”

“Yes, it was good luck,” said Jaha. He turned to Marcus. “You don’t mind, do you, Caroline being your ex and all?”

“She was your ex first,” said Marcus, and Abby would have high-fived him if she could.

Jaha cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Have you been out on the campaign trail today? What’s your feeling about the result?”

“I was out this morning. I wouldn’t like to say. I expect a close call.”

“Really?” Jaha looked sceptical, and Abby didn’t think it was because he thought Marcus had a chance of winning.

“Yes,” said Marcus confidently. “There’s a lot of interest in the campaign, so I think there has been a high turn-out.”

“It certainly looks like it from the crowd,” said Caroline. “Thelonious got a standing ovation on his arrival.”

“No one has seats,” said Abby, and Marcus took her hand and squeezed it.

“Well,” Marcus said. “I can see one of my volunteers waving at me. I must go.” He dragged Abby towards the opposite corner of the room. There was no volunteer waiting for them. Abby felt a touch of apprehension, wondering if Marcus would be annoyed with her for her comments. She had gone a bit far perhaps.

He turned and looked at her, shaking his head. He was still holding her hand.

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” said Abby, before he could say anything. “I just can’t stand her or him. They get my hackles up.”

“I know, I know. You were amazing.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I don’t know how I kept a straight face. ‘No one has seats’,” he repeated, laughing.

“Oh, good. I thought you might be annoyed.”

“No. I had to drag you away because I wanted to laugh. I didn’t think I could contain it a second longer.”

“They deserve each other,” said Abby.

“They do.” Marcus kissed her again. “Remember when you told him your husband had died having sex with a younger woman?”

“Oh, yes. I was fed up of answering questions about him.”

“I knew then you were the one for me,” said Marcus. He looked at her admiringly, ran his fingers over her face. “The most extraordinary woman.”

Abby felt tears prick her eyes. “Stop that now. You’re going to make me cry and we don’t have a movie to watch.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. When I see you like that, it does things to me.” He laughed.

“We’re in public,” whispered Abby.

“I know.” Marcus pulled a face. “Okay, let’s get back to it.”

They moved amongst the people, making small talk, answering questions. The end of voting was announced over the loud speaker.

“They’ll start the count now,” said Marcus.

“How long will that take?”

“Depends on the turnout. A couple of hours at least.”

“Okay.”

Mary Murphy approached Abby with a shy smile and Abby’s stomach flipped. The papers! Crap! She’d forgotten all about them after being run off the road on the way back from collecting them.

“Hi Abby, love,” said Mary.

Abby gave her a hug. “Hi Mary. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Did you have any luck with, you know...” She looked hopefully at Abby who felt guilty.

Abby glanced at Marcus who was looking away from her, talking to a constituent. “I haven’t had chance to talk to him yet, what with the election.”

“Oh, I know. I know, love. I didn’t mean to push you.” Mary took Abby’s hand and stroked it. “I’m just so grateful to you, not just for this, but for John. He talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Abby’s heart warmed at Mary’s words. It had been a long time since she’d had a positive effect on someone’s life, other than Marcus of course. “He’s a great young man. Very clever.”

“If only he’d put that brain of his to some good use, eh?” Mary smiled ruefully.

“That’s kids for you,” said Abby.

“Yes.”

Marcus turned back to Abby and smiled at Mary. He held out his hand to her. “Mrs Murphy.”

“Governor Kane.”

Abby prayed Mary wouldn’t say anything to Marcus now about John. She wanted to lay the groundwork carefully, so that he couldn’t say no when the time came.

“I hope you win,” said Mary. “You have my vote.”

“That’s very kind,” replied Marcus.

“Let’s keep in touch, Abby,” said Mary, and Abby nodded.

“We will.”

“Nice woman,” said Marcus. “Pity her son’s a delinquent.”

“Not everyone’s what they seem, Marcus.”

“In some cases they are.” He greeted another voter, and Abby knew she’d have to get all her ducks in a row before she could tempt Marcus to investigate Murphy’s father’s case.

They moved around the room, sticking close to each other. Abby looked closely at everyone they met, trying to analyse their body language, the way they reacted to Marcus and to her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the letter writer must be someone they know, or Marcus knows. Diana Sydney was talking to Jaha and Caroline, and she broke away from them when she saw Abby and Marcus.

She looked Abby up and down but didn’t comment. Instead she addressed Marcus. “That’s a turn-up for the books, Kane, Caroline being here.”

“It’s a free country,” said Marcus in reply.

“Must be difficult for you, though, seeing her again. I mean, I remember what you were like afterwards.” She looked at Abby. “Poor man was bereft. She was the love of his life, you know.”

“How would he know that?” said Abby.

Diana frowned. “What do you mean?”

“How would Marcus, or anyone for that matter, know that someone was the love of their life, if they were only a third of the way through? Lots of life still to live.”

“Well, yes.” Diana was flustered. Abby stared her straight in the eye. “I mean at the time of course.”

“Love of my life is the last thing I’d call Caroline,” said Marcus. “Then or now.”

“I only meant...it must be hard for you.”

“Not at all. I can’t think of two people better suited to each other than her and Jaha,” said Marcus.

“I did think perhaps you and Thelonious...” said Abby, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

“Oh, no, no. I don’t know where you got that idea,” said Diana, her face reddening.

“You are always together, or at least you were, until now.” The comment was mean, and beneath Abby really, but she had lost all will to be nice to people like Diana. What was the point? She was never going to be a friend or an ally, and she denigrated Abby no matter what she did. People like that weren’t worth the effort.

“Thelonious and I are just friends,” said Diana, and then she turned on her heel and flounced across the room.

“Low-five so no one can see,” said Abby, holding her hand towards Marcus.

“What?” he said, looking confused.

“Hold your hand out.”

Marcus did as she asked and Abby touched his palm with hers.

“Oh, I see,” said Marcus.

Abby shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”

They continued to do the rounds of the room, waiting for the count to be over. Abby enjoyed herself in the main. Most people were friendly, willing to chat. She was talking to someone who worked at the museum in Lancaster about the art exhibition when she looked across the room and Jackson walked in. She nudged Marcus.

“Doctor Jackson is here.”

Marcus turned to look, his hand clasped tight around Abby’s waist. “That’s nice of him to come,” he said.

“You’re assuming he’s here for you,” Abby replied with a smile.

“He surely hasn’t voted for Jaha.” Marcus curled his lip as though it was preposterous that anyone who knew him would consider voting for anyone else.

“No, I doubt it. You and he have similar beliefs. I’ll bet he’s a supporter.”

“We do? How do you know?”

“When we went out to dinner, he said something about believing in justice and wanting to help people get fair treatment. That’s why he became a prison doctor.”

“I didn’t realise that,” said Marcus.

“Have you ever talked to him?”

Marcus shrugged. “Only about work.”

“Well, I told him we’d go out again. I think it would be nice to have another couple to do things with occasionally, don’t you?” The grimace on Marcus’s face told Abby what his thoughts were on that suggestion. “You might enjoy yourself. You two have a lot in common. I’m going to suggest it now.”

“Abby, no,” said Marcus but it was too late because Abby was dragging him towards Jackson.

“Doctor Jackson,” she said with a smile. “How nice to see you.”

“Hello, Abby,” he said, and he kissed her on the cheek. “How’s everything going?”

“Oh, it’s going well, we think, don’t we?” She turned to Marcus for confirmation and to encourage him to participate in the conversation.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am hopeful for a positive outcome.”

Jackson nodded. “That seems to be the general consensus. The only topic of conversation today has been Councillor Kane.”

“He’s worked really hard to spread his message, haven’t you?”

Marcus nodded. There was a silence for a moment. Abby had her work cut out getting these two to talk less formally, but she was determined to try. She needed friends in this town, and she wanted Marcus to have someone other than her to talk to if he needed, or even just to spend time with. It was important in a relationship not to be the sole provider of everything to the other person.

“I was thinking,” continued Abby, “that it would be nice to do something different, something relaxing, once the election is over. Why don’t the four of us go somewhere, me and Marcus, you and Nate? Dinner or a movie or bowling?” She looked at both men, neither of whom seemed keen on the idea. “That would be fun, yes?”

“I love bowling,” said Jackson with a smile.

“I’ve never bowled,” said Marcus with a frown.

“Well then,” said Abby, her voice high with forced enthusiasm. “Jackson could teach you, and then we’d all have fun.”

“When this is all over,” said Jackson. “I’d be happy to do that.”

Marcus looked at Abby, and then he nodded. “Fine,” he said.

“Good!”

Councillor Fuji had been hovering on the periphery of their conversation for a minute or two and when another silence descended he stepped in. “Councillor Kane, would you be able to spare a moment. There are some administrative issues that need your attention.”

Marcus looked at Abby with concern. His grip around her tightened.

“Go,” said Abby. “I’ll be fine with Jackson.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She squeezed his other hand. “It’s fine.”

Marcus let go of her reluctantly. “Don’t go anywhere else.”

“I won’t.”

He left then with Councillor Fuji, turning back to look at her a couple of times as he crossed the room, a frown on his face.

Abby perched on the edge of a desk and Jackson perched next to her. “He’s a bit overprotective, isn’t he? I’d never have thought Kane would be like that.”

“He’s very caring,” replied Abby.

Jackson looked at her with concern. “Not too caring, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we all know he has obsessive tendencies. He’s not, you know, too controlling?”

“No, not at all.” Abby’s tone was defensive, and that only caused Jackson to frown further.

“You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything. I can help you.”

“There’s nothing to help me with, honestly.” Jackson’s questioning was making Abby uncomfortable, but when she thought back over the last few minutes, she could see why the doctor would be concerned. Marcus had been gripping her tightly, not letting her leave his side, reluctant to leave her, telling her not to move. It would seem controlling to someone who didn’t know what they were going through.

“If you’re sure,” said Jackson.

“Yes.”

“And he’s been okay since the accident? No change in his personality or anything?”

“No. He’s fully recovered.” She put her hand on Jackson’s arm. “You really don’t have to worry.”

“I know, it’s just, a blow to the back of the head like he had can have hidden damage, something that doesn’t show up on CT scans.”

“Well, Marcus is exactly the same as he was before. Let’s talk about something else. Is Nate back yet?”

Jackson smiled, finally. “Yes. He got back yesterday.”

“You two have had a lot of catching up to do, then,” said Abby with a smirk, determined to lighten the mood. She was going to go insane if she didn’t think of something other than the stalker or the accident for even just a few precious minutes.

Jackson blushed. “I may have taken a couple of days off work.”

“Good for you. Is he not here tonight?” Abby looked around, not that she knew what Nate looked like.

“No. Politics isn’t his thing.”

“I didn’t realise it was yours particularly.”

“The person who wins will have a lot of influence in this town. I’m interested in the outcome.”

“Marcus will come through. I know he will.” Abby smiled at Jackson, who nodded.

Abby chatted with Jackson while she waited for Marcus to return. She’d lost sight of him when he’d reached the other side of the room and now he was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach twisted into more and more knots the longer he was gone. She was half listening to Jackson and half scanning the room, looking for his tall frame, his dark neatly-gelled hair. He’d been so concerned about leaving her, neither of them had given a thought to where he was going. What if the letter writer was Councillor Fuji? Marcus had walked off with him without a care, and Abby had let him leave. She glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d been gone nearly half an hour.

It was unlikely to be Councillor Fuji. Abby didn’t know much about him, well nothing really, but he didn’t seem like the type of person to write poisonous letters and threaten blackmail. But then neither did anyone else she’d met, except for Caroline, and Jaha, and probably Diana. She looked around the room again. Caroline and Jaha were standing near the stage, talking to people. Abby couldn’t see any sign of Diana’s blonde head. Her blood ran cold. She was officially worried now.

She jumped off the desk and turned to look at Jackson. “I’m going to look for Marcus.”

“I thought he told you to wait here?”

“I know. I won’t be long.”

“What’s going on, Abby?”

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Abby gave Jackson a weak smile and then she left to push her way through the crowds to where she’d last seen Marcus. Jaha saw her approaching and turned his smarmy smile on her.

“Abby. How are you holding up?”

“Fine. Have you seen Marcus?”

“Left you already has he?” said Caroline in a sarcastic voice.

Abby fixed her with a withering look. “Have you seen him?”

“Erm, with Councillor Fuji maybe, a while ago?”

Abby left them without saying anything more. She heard Caroline huff and stage whisper “How rude!” to Jaha but she didn’t care. She carried on moving through the crowd, asking people if they’d seen him. No one had, until someone pointed at a door at the rear of the stage and said he’d gone through there some time ago. Abby made her way to the door, pulled on the handle. It was heavy, and it took some effort to heave it open.

She went through into a dimly-lit hallway. It was narrow, the walls oak-panelled and almost black with age. It was cold as well, and Abby shivered in her flimsy dress. An exposed pipe ran beneath the ceiling, emitting a hum that seemed to vibrate through Abby’s veins. She’d forgotten how ancient this building was. The public rooms were old but with modern touches. In here the bare bones of the building were on show. She continued down the hallway. There was a door to the right, and she knocked on it, waiting for a reply before opening it to look inside. It was a storeroom of some kind. She went back to the main hallway, turned a corner and there was another door at the far end. She started walking towards it. Somewhere behind her a door slammed, making Abby jump.

She put her hand on the door handle, rested it there. She hadn’t thought this through at all. What if the stalker was waiting for her on the other side? What if he had Marcus? What if she opened this door and Marcus was hurt or, God forbid, something worse? She took her hand off the door, took deep breaths. She was being silly. Whatever was behind the door had to be dealt with. She’d told Marcus she wasn’t going to run away again, and she’d meant it. You have to face your fears; it’s the only way forward. She yanked the door open, opting for surprise rather than stealth if there was anyone there.

She stepped into a large room with whitewashed walls and rows of desks. There was no one in the room, though it was clearly a well-used one normally. The desks contained all the things people usually cluttered them with - computers, pen holders, mugs, pictures of families, stuffed animals. There was another door at the far end of the room and Abby headed for that. Might as well keep going.

The door connected to another similar room, and then another hallway, another room, another hallway. Abby felt like she was in one of the circles of hell, going round and round but not getting anywhere. She heard footsteps behind her and froze. They echoed off the panelled walls and she couldn’t tell how close the person was. The sound was dull, like the sound of a heavy boot or shoe, not the click-clack of high heels, so a man probably. Abby fumbled in her purse for her keys, found them, and held them in her hand, ready to stab them at whoever it was, if she had to. A shadow loomed around the corner quickly followed by a tall man in a suit. He looked at Abby, and Abby looked at him. She didn’t recognise him, but a Town Hall pass was swinging on a lanyard around his neck.

“Are you okay?” he said to Abby as he passed her.

“I’m looking for Councillor Kane.”

“Oh. I haven’t seen him.” The man walked through the door at the end of the hallway and it banged shut behind him.

Abby stood taking deep breaths while she tried to calm her racing heart. This was ridiculous. She followed the man to the door, pulling it open wearily, and found herself at the back of the room she’d left what felt like a lifetime ago. She’d walked in a semi-circle through the bowels of the Town Hall. Goddamnit!

She surveyed the room, looking for Marcus. She thought she recognised his dark waves in the centre of the room. The owner of them was pointing an accusing finger at someone. He threw his hands up in despair, then turned and stared straight at her. It WAS Marcus. Neither of them moved for a second, and then Marcus was hurrying towards her. He flung his arms around her, pressed her to him.

“Where the hell have you been?” he said angrily when he released her from his grip.

“Looking for you! Where have you been?”

“I had to sign some papers, boring Council stuff. I told you not to move.” He looked at her despairingly.

“You were gone for so long. I got worried.”

“I came back, and Jackson said you’d disappeared. I’ve been beside myself.”

“So was I!”

Curls of Marcus’s hair were escaping the gel he’d been running his hands through it so much. He pushed one away from his eye. “We can’t go on like this,” he said.

“I almost wish they’d do something just so we can get it over with.”

“I know what you mean. I guess this is what they want. They want us scared and suspicious and on tenterhooks all the time.”

“Well, it’s working,” said Abby.

Marcus put his arm around her. “I’m sorry I shouted. It was just that a million things went through my mind when I found out you were missing. I was so scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Don’t leave my side again.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

“Don’t leave me either.”

Marcus nodded. “I need to apologise to Jackson.”

“Why?”

“I may have blamed him for letting you go. I wasn’t exactly polite.”

“He’s going to be wondering what the hell is going on.”

“Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t. Besides it will only make his suspicions worse.”

“What suspicions?” Marcus looked at Abby sharply, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“He thinks you’re controlling me. It’s because of, well everything that has happened tonight.”

“I don’t care what he thinks. You don’t think I’m controlling you, do you?” His eyes bored into her. They were almost black in the muted light of the Council chamber.

Abby put her hand to his cheek, let her fingers play over his sharp bones. “of course I don’t. Why would you even consider such a thing?”

“I don’t know. I feel out of control tonight.”

This was a big admission for a man who liked to be in control at all times or appear to be. Abby held up his hand, turned it over so the cufflink she’d given him was displayed.

“Do you see this?”

Marcus nodded.

“This is us, our love for each other. The flowers are so entwined they can’t be separated. When you feel like you’re losing control, touch this, and you’ll know you’re not alone.” She took the fingers of his other hand and placed them on the cufflink. “Unbreakable,” she said.

He twisted the cufflink around in its slot. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you more.”

Marcus shook his head and smiled.

Councillor Fuji’s voice boomed out over the loudspeaker system, making Abby and Marcus jump. “Can Councillor Kane and Mayor Jaha come to the stage, please. The vote is in.”

“This is it,” said Marcus.

“You’ve already won, no matter what happens.” Abby kissed his lips gently.

“Come on the stage with me.”

“No. I’ll stand next to it, so we can see each other, but this is your moment.”

Abby followed Marcus to the stage, standing in front of it, making sure she kept a large number of people between herself and Caroline, whose icy glare Abby could feel even though she wasn’t looking at her. Marcus stood straight as he always did. He held his hands in front of him, and he was playing with the cufflink, spinning it round and round. The rest of him was still, except for his eyes, which were scanning the room, before finally coming to rest on her. She held his gaze, smiling at him.

Councillor Fuji stood in front of Marcus and Jaha.

“I, Councillor Fuji, Returning Officer for the Arkchester constituency declare that the total number of votes given to each candidate was as follows: Thelonious Jaha, one thousand one hundred and forty-two.”

How many people were of voting age in Arkchester? Abby couldn’t remember. She should know, because she and Marcus had spent hours working out how many votes he needed to win, but all that information had gone straight out of her head. There was a spattering of applause and Jaha smiled, so he must be feeling confident. Marcus stood still, looking at Abby. She nodded at him.

“Marcus Kane, one thousand five hundred and three.” It took Abby a moment to register what Councillor Fuji had just said. Then there was a cheer and a loud round of applause, and Marcus was grinning at her. He’d won! A huge grin spread over Abby’s face. She gave him a thumbs up.

“Therefore, I give public notice that Marcus Kane is duly elected as Mayor of Arkchester.” Councillor Fuji shook Marcus’s hand, and then put a gold chain of office around his neck. Marcus looked down at it, ran his fingers over the ornate links. He then turned to Jaha who had a face like thunder, and held out his hand. Jaha took it, giving it a brief shake. Marcus stepped to the microphone.

“Thank you, Councillor Fuji and all elected officers for holding a fair count. Thank you also to Councillor Jaha for running a good campaign and proving a worthy opponent. I’m grateful to everyone who voted for me, and the opportunity to serve the people of Arkchester faithfully and honestly to the best of my abilities.

“Anyone who knows me, and who voted for me, knows that justice is very important to me, or rather injustice. The injustice that affects so many in this community. Inequality, lack of affordable housing, unequal access to quality education, a disproportionate number of young people in our prison system. Ensuring justice is served for everyone in this community is my number one priority.

“I promised to make Arkchester better, and I intend to make good on that promise in the coming weeks and months and honour your faith in me.”

Marcus pulled on the sleeves of his shirt, fiddled with the cufflink. “Thank you to everyone who has helped with the campaign, to Harper, Jordon and Madi, and last but definitely not least, to Abby Griffin. She told me if I ditched the suit on the campaign trail I might just appear electable. I guess she was right.”

The crowd laughed, and many of them turned to look at Abby, who smiled in return.

“Thank you, Abby,” said Marcus. “Thank you everyone.” He bowed his head briefly, then walked off the stage. He was surrounded by well-wishers, and Abby waited patiently until he finally made it to her side.

“Congratulations,” she said, and she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense. It’s your policies they’ve voted for.”

“I know, but policies aren’t everything; you taught me that. I meant what I said up there.”

“This is very fancy,” said Abby as she fingered the chain.

“I only have to wear it for formal occasions,” replied Marcus.

“What about informal occasions?” whispered Abby, and Marcus’s cheeks turned pink.

“Naughty,” he murmured.

“Mayor Kane! A photograph please.” The official photographer appeared in front of them and manhandled Abby and Marcus into various positions as he photographed them.

“Mayor Kane,” said Abby when he’d gone. “I like it.”

“I expect you to call it me at all times,” said Marcus with a sly smile.

“I’ll call it you if you promise to serve me to the best of your abilities.” Abby returned the sly smile.

“When do I not?”

“True.”

Marcus sighed.

“Are you tired?” said Abby.

“A bit. It’s been an eventful day.”

“And stressful.”

“Yes.”

“What happens next? Do you have to stay here for a while yet?” Abby looked around the room. The crowd was thinning. The officials were clearing away the paperwork, volunteers were folding up tables and dismantling the microphone.

“I don’t think so. All the official paperwork will be prepared tomorrow I think.”

Abby was about to suggest they leave when Jaha and Caroline came up to them.

“Congratulations, Kane,” said Jaha stiffly.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have your work cut out. You’ve promised a lot, too much in my opinion.”

“I like a challenge,” replied Marcus.

“It’s just as well.”

Marcus looked as though he was about to say something in reply, and then he turned to Abby. “Let’s go,” he said, and he led her away from Jaha and Caroline without saying another word to them.

They stood outside in the cold dark night, looking up at the stars. Abby shivered in her thin jacket, and Marcus put his coat around her.

“Nothing happened,” Abby said.

“Not yet,” said Marcus, and they looked at each other.

“What will be will be.”

“Yes.”

“Shall we stay at my cottage tonight? I don’t want you driving all that way in the dark when you’re tired.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Marcus, and he put his arm around her as they walked to his car.

When they reached the cottage Abby shut the door behind them and went around the house closing all the curtains. It was cold in the house. The heating was off because she hadn’t expected to be staying there that night. She had a fireplace but had never laid a fire in it.

“Do you have any firewood?” said Marcus as Abby fired up the ancient central heating which would take hours to warm.

“I think there’s some out back. There’s like a wooden thing in the garden. I’ve never been in it. It’s full of spiders.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of spiders?” said Marcus with a laugh.

“Not if they stay outside where they’re supposed to be. They come in here, they wish they hadn’t.”

“Glad I’m not a spider,” he said with a smile as he went to the back door. “Where’s the key?”

“On a hook near the door. Here, I’ll get it.” Abby went into the kitchen and found the key, giving it to Marcus. “You’ll need a torch.” She rummaged in a drawer until she found a torch. Marcus took it and went out of the back door into the dark night. Abby filled the kettle with water to make a drink. She stood at the window, watching the light of the torch bobbing up and down as Marcus walked.

She made them both a hot chocolate and put marshmallows and chocolate flakes in hers with some cream. She wanted something indulgent and comforting. She didn’t know if Marcus would want those frivolities in his drink, probably not; she’d ask him when he returned. She waited. She could still see the torch light, but it wasn’t moving, as though he’d put it down while he gathered the firewood.  After another couple of minutes of it not moving, Abby began to worry. What was taking him so long?

She went to the back door, peered out into the gloom. The stars were bright but there was no moon so she couldn’t see much on the ground.

“Marcus?” she said, but there was no reply.

She slipped off her high-heeled shoes and put on her boots. She didn’t have another torch so she got her cell phone and used the light on that to guide her as she made her way down the path.

“Marcus!” she shouted again. Her heart was thumping out of her chest. There was silence for a second, and then she heard a moan.

“Marcus, are you okay?”

“Abby.” Marcus’s voice sounded weak. It was somewhere ahead of her. She headed for the sound, and at the edge of the garden, in front of the woodpile, her phone light picked out a prone Marcus surrounded by scattered logs. She ran towards him, knelt on the wet grass beside him.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He started to sit up, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Wait, wait. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think so.”

“What happened?” she asked again.

“I lost my balance. I had too many logs and I don’t really know what happened.”

Abby shone the torch on his head, looking for wounds. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. I kind of went down in a heap but my arse took most of the fall.”

“No one hit you? There was no one here?”

He shook his head. “No. It was my own stupid fault.”

“Okay. Let’s get you back inside.” She helped Marcus stand. “Do you feel woozy?”

“No, I feel fine. I’m fine, Abby, honestly. It’s just my pride that’s wounded.”

“Well, nevertheless, lean on me.”

“We need the logs.”

“Fuck the logs.”

“No. I’m getting them.” He bent to gather up the fallen wood and Abby looked at him and sighed. He was a stubborn ass at times. She started to pick some herself but Marcus stopped her. “You’ll ruin your dress,” he said.

“Let me at least take the kindling.”

Marcus handed her the bag with the small bits of wood in it and she followed him back to the house. Once they were inside she appraised him properly, looking through his hair, feeling his scalp for bumps. He stood patiently while she examined him, as though he knew it was something she had to do and he was happy to indulge her.

When she was satisfied he was okay she stood and looked at him, shaking her head. “You’ll live, I think.”

“Unless I’m already in heaven. You do look like an angel in that dress.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his comment. His jacket and pants were damp and muddy so she helped him out of them and put them on the table to deal with tomorrow.

“Go and light the fire now you’ve got the wood. Do you want some cream and marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

Marcus screwed up his face at her suggestion, so Abby brought his drink into the living room unadulterated. The fire sputtered into life and she lit some candles, turning off the lights so they were bathed only in a soft orange glow. They kicked off their shoes and curled up on the sofa beneath a blanket. Abby sipped her hot chocolate, sucking up a marshmallow and chewing on it.

“You have cream on your nose,” said Marcus, and he leaned in and kissed it away.

“Tonight was strange,” said Abby. “I was scared most of the time. I hate feeling like that.”

“I know. We’re at this person’s mercy, always waiting for him to make the move, reacting to it. I don’t know how to change that, how to take back control.”

“Maybe the private investigator will come through with something.”

“He’s supposed to be sending me what he has.” Marcus looked at his phone. “There’s no signal.”

“Oh it’s like that sometimes. Let me check mine.” Abby checked her phone but the wi-fi and the 4G signals were out. “I don’t have a connection either. It will come back later.”

Abby finished her hot chocolate, put the mug down on the coffee table. She leant back against Marcus’s outstretched arm. “It’s someone we know. Someone who was there tonight. Someone we talked to.”

“Most of the town was there, and we talked to them all I think between us.”

“Something’s been bugging me all night.”

“What?”

“Something someone said. I don’t know what it was or who said it. Just that there was something. Something feels wrong, out of place.”

Marcus sighed. “That’s a lot of somethings and someones, Abby.”

“I know. It will come back to me, I hope.” She lay in Marcus’s arms, watching the fire flicker, and tried to remember all the conversations she’d had that night but there were dozens, hundreds probably, if she counted every interaction, however brief.

“Do you want to go to bed?” whispered Marcus when they’d lain quietly for a while.

Abby sat up and looked at him. “Hmm, yes, we haven’t celebrated your win properly yet.”

Marcus smiled. “I didn’t mean for that.”

“You don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Abby threw the blanket off them and stood up, holding her hand out to Marcus to pull him to his feet. He put his arms around her waist.

“Are you sure you’re up for it? Your arse won’t be too sore?”

“You’ll have to be gentle with me.”

Abby put her arms around his neck drew him to her and they kissed. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go.” She led him to her bedroom where she pulled his t-shirt over his head slowly and carefully. He raised his arms stiffly and Abby frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just a bit achy. From the fall I guess.” 

Abby eased his underpants down, his cock bobbing up, semi-hard and growing. She wasn’t interested in that right now, though. She turned him, looked at his back. A ragged purple stain was forming at the top of his arse.

“Marcus, you’re bruised.” She ran her fingers over it, pressed gently, and he winced, sucked in a breath.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You should have a bath otherwise you’ll be stiff and sore tomorrow.”

“I’m already stiff,” Marcus said, looking down at his cock and then up at Abby with a grin.

“You are terrible,” she said. “I’ll make you a deal. You have a bath and then I’ll think about taking care of that.” She nodded at his cock.

“Think about it or do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Okay then.”

Abby left him perched on the bed while she filled the old Victorian bath with warm water and Epsom Salt perfumed with lavender. He wouldn’t like the lavender but tough. It would do him good. When the bath was ready she called him and he walked in stiffly. She helped him get into the bath and he sank beneath the bubbles with a sigh.

“That feels really good,” he said.

“I told you.” Abby stirred the water, mixing up the salts. “Just relax, close your eyes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get out of this dress before it gets ruined.”

“You’ll come back?” He looked up at her with warm eyes and Abby smiled.

“Of course. Don’t drown while I’m gone.”

She went into her bedroom, stripped off the dress and hung it in her wardrobe. She opened her drawer to search for her pyjamas and found the Kane For Mayor t-shirt she’d picked up at the meet and greet. She pulled it on and paired it with a pair of comfy pyjama bottoms. She wasn’t in the mood for sexy and flimsy. She knew Marcus well enough by now to know that even though he loved it when she made an effort, at heart he wouldn’t care if she was wearing a tent. He’d want her no matter what, and he’d get a kick out of the t-shirt. The thought made her smile.

She returned to the bathroom and Marcus opened one eye as she entered. His eyebrow shot up his forehead, and he opened the other eye.

“What are you wearing?”

“Remember this? I said I’d wear it and then I forgot about it.”

“I look good on you,” Marcus said smirking.

“You do. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Are you going to scrub me down?”

“Do you want me to?”

“You might have to, what with me being so stiff and sore.”

Abby gave him an amused look. “You’re going to milk this now.”

“Probably.”

Abby opened a fresh bar of soap and lathered it up. She knelt beside him and ran her hands over his broad back, between his shoulder blades, down the knots of his spine to his lower back, where he was bruised. She massaged him gently, and Marcus moaned softly.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a whisper.

This felt intimate, even for them. She’d never thought Marcus would let her close to him during these kinds of private moments, so she’d never even asked if he wanted to shower together or anything like that. Now here she was, bathing him, massaging him. It was nice. She moved around to his front, rubbed her soapy hands over his chest, tweaking his nipples until he groaned.

“This is turning,” he said, looking into her eyes, which were inches from his face.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

Abby kissed him, and her hand slipped lower, beneath the water, down over his belly to his cock. She closed her hand around it, squeezed it, and Marcus moaned into her mouth. She stroked his cock slowly, methodically. Marcus brought a wet hand up to her t-shirt, sliding it beneath, up to her breast, thumping her nipple with damp fingers. It was Abby’s turn to groan. Marcus pushed her shirt up, pressed her towards him so he could get her nipple into his mouth and suck on it. Abby’s clit pulsed, and wetness pooled between her legs. God, she wanted him so much. He barely had to touch her.

She tried to concentrate on Marcus, increasing the tempo of her strokes on his cock, building up the speed the way he liked it. She felt him tense up, his lips stilled around her nipple, and then he was coming into her hand, pulse after pulse of it disappearing into the water.

He groaned, and Abby smiled. “Was that good?”

“Yeah,” Marcus mumbled.

“Do you want to get out?”

“Yes.” Abby held out her hand and Marcus grabbed it, stepping out of the bath onto the mat, water dripping from his body. Abby went to get him a fresh towel and he followed her. When she turned back from the cupboard he pressed her against it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m returning the favour.” Marcus reached out, hooked his thumbs in her pyjama bottoms and started to ease them down. He struggled to bend too far, so Abby took over, stepping out of the pants and knickers. Marcus sank gingerly to his knees.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Shush,” he said, and then he opened her lips with his thumbs, and buried his face in her sex, his nose rubbing deliciously against her clit while he ran his tongue over her.

Abby let out a long groan. She spread her legs wider so he could access her better. “Oh, don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t ever stop this.”

Marcus slipped two fingers inside her, licking her and fucking her until Abby had to press her hands against the door to hold herself up. He tongued her clitoris more firmly than she normally liked, and her legs shook as an intense orgasm washed over her. Marcus lapped up her juices than sat back on his heels to look at her.

“God,” was all Abby could manage.

Marcus grinned. “Marks out of ten?”

“A hundred,” breathed Abby.

She helped Marcus stand and they stood smiling at each other. “You are amazing at that,” Abby said.

“You inspire me.”

Abby laughed, then stifled a yawn. “I’m suddenly exhausted.”

“Me too. Shall we go to bed for real this time?”

“Yes.”

They cleaned up together and Abby put on fresh pyjamas while Marcus hunted in the drawer of clothes he kept at her place for clean pants and a t-shirt. He eased himself carefully into bed next to her.

“If you’re still sore in the morning you should go and see the doctor.”

“I will,” he said, although Abby suspected he wouldn’t go unless he thought he was actually going to die.

Marcus held out his arm to Abby and she curled into him. He fell asleep almost instantly, but Abby lay awake for a while, trying to pin down the conversation she’d had that had rung an alarm bell somewhere deep in her brain, but the answer wouldn’t come.


	23. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is obsessed with whom? The letter-writer is revealed.
> 
> Don't read the notes until you've read the chapter.

The morning after the election and Abby woke to bright sunlight filtering through a gap in the curtains. Dust motes danced in the beam and she watched them rise and fall for a moment before turning to look at Marcus. His side of the bed was empty, however, though the sheet was still warm when she touched it. She rolled into his space, buried her head in his pillow. The scent of him lingered, the warm spice of his cologne, the shampoo he used that smelled like some of the tea he drank, woody and earthy. She wondered what she smelled like to him. Fruity, probably, with her penchant for flowers, herbs and fruits in her various products. Marcus was autumn, and Abby was summer, and it was amazing sometimes that they fit together so well. On paper they were opposites, but in reality their life experiences had made them the same. She yawned and stretched. It was early to be having such philosophical thoughts.

She sat up and was about to drag herself out of bed when she heard footsteps and then the door creaked open. Two mugs of something steaming entered followed by Marcus.

“Aah, you’re awake,” he said when he saw her.

“I am. Oh, thank you,” she said as Marcus handed her a cup of tea. Abby placed it on the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad. My bruise is good, though.” He pulled down the back of his underpants to show her. The bruise had spread since last night and was a deep purple. This was when you knew you were in a long-term relationship, thought Abby, when you’re showing each other your injuries and ailments. She stifled a smile.

“That’s a beauty,” she said.

“I’m quite proud of it.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

Marcus crawled onto the bed towards Abby and leaned in and kissed her. “I try to be the best I can be.”

“I know you do, Mr Mayor,” she said with a smirk.

Marcus grabbed her legs and pulled her down the bed. He knelt between her thighs and kissed her again. “I like you calling me that.” He put his hands on her t-shirt, massaging her breasts through the material.

“What are you doing?” said Abby, grinning.

“I’m claiming the rest of my prize from last night.” He pushed the t-shirt up, kissed her stomach.

“I had a fantasy about this, you know,” said Abby as Marcus hooked his thumbs in her pyjamas, pulled them and her knickers down.

“About what?”

“About you fucking me while I was wearing this t-shirt.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It was before we’d had sex for the first time. I wondered what you’d be like.”

Marcus sat back on his heels, looked at her. “And?”

“I thought you’d be earnest.”

“What?” Marcus laughed.

“Yes, you know, disciplined.”

“I see. I think.” He frowned, but his eyes were amused.

Abby reached out, put her fingers inside the waistband of Marcus’s shorts and pulled him towards her. “Maybe you could do it like that now,” she murmured.

“You mean earnestly? What is that? What do you mean exactly?”

“I don’t know, like stiffly, like you’re trying very hard to be good but you’re very emotionless.”

“Like a robot or something?”

“Yes! Exactly like that.”

“You want me to make love to you like a robot?”

“You’re making it sound weird.”

“It is weird!”

Abby laughed. “I know it is. Look, just climb on top and thrust away. That’s all you have to do.”

“Okay.”

Marcus looked at her like she had lost her mind, and perhaps she had, but now that she’d had the thought it was all she could think about. She wanted this. Abby settled back against the pillows and bent her knees so Marcus could get between them. He positioned himself above her.

“Can I at least kiss you?”

“Yes, but only before, not during.”

“Fuck.” He laughed, and then she could tell he’d decided to just go with it, because his shoulders relaxed and the crease in his forehead smoothed out. He leant forward and captured her lips and there was nothing emotionless about his kiss. His fingers stroked her sex, warming her up, bringing her to life.

“What’s your name?” she whispered to him, hoping he would realise what she wanted and play along.

He stopped stroking her for a moment. His brow furrowed and then he looked at her. “Marcus Kane. Mayor Marcus Kane.”

“Hello, Mayor Kane. I’m Abby Griffin.”

“I know who you are,” said Marcus, in a low quiet voice.

“Do you?”

“Yes. I’ve been watching you.”

“I thought you had. I’ve been watching you too.”

“I wasn’t certain.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”

“I never make the first move.”

“Too important, are you?”

“I’m the Mayor.”

“But you have needs, Mr Mayor, don’t you? Like any man.”

Marcus shrugged. His dark eyes were boring into hers now. “I suppose.”

“So if you won’t make the first move I have to tell you what I want do I?” Abby’s heart was racing, and desire was coursing through her. This shouldn’t be hot but it was.

“It would be helpful.”

“Well, I want you to fuck me, Marcus Kane. Can you do that?”

“I’m very proficient at that activity.”

“I bet you are.”

“Would you like me to do it now?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Please lie back while I effect an entry.”

Abby snorted, she couldn’t help it.

“Is there something wrong, Ms Griffin?” said Marcus, still in his deadpan voice.

“No. There’s nothing wrong. Please continue.” Abby closed her eyes because looking at him at this moment in time was going to make her laugh again. He was trying hard to do what she wanted, and that in itself was enough to stoke her fire, but it was also faintly ridiculous, like this whole scenario.

She groaned though when he slid inside her, and then all the way out again.

“Is this acceptable?” he said.

“Most acceptable,” replied Abby, and then she lay back and watched as he held himself above her and slid back in again. He set up a steady rhythm, not varying it. He held her gaze, but didn’t smile, didn’t speak. His hands stayed planted either side of her shoulders as he thrust in and out, in and out. Abby was so turned on her body was buzzing. She wanted to move, to wrap her legs around him and encourage him but she didn’t. She lay still and watched.

“You are wearing a t-shirt with my face on it,” Marcus said after a couple of minutes of steady thrusting.

“I am. What do you think of it?”

“I’m a handsome man,” he said.

“You are.”

“Is my technique adequate for you?”

“It is having the desired effect, although perhaps a little harder.”

Marcus thrust harder, hitting a good spot deep inside Abby. She reached down between them, circled her clit in time to his thrusts. Marcus was frowning with the effort of keeping up such a steady rhythm, and he looked so much like she’d imagined in that moment that Abby’s orgasm took her by surprise with its speed and intensity.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad,” said Marcus, and then he increased his tempo until he was coming inside her.

He rolled them onto their sides, his cock still buried within her. “Was that how you imagined?” he said.

“Exactly,” said Abby, “but also way hotter. Really hot.”

“You’re a bampot,” said Marcus affectionately.

“Thank you for indulging me.”

“It was my pleasure, although I prefer to be touching you. It felt a little cold for me, not to be able to kiss you.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice.” Abby smiled at him, and he kissed her.

“Any time.”

He rolled over and sat up to reach his tea. Abby did the same, taking a sip. It was still warm, so quickly she’d got off during the role play.

“Do you have any fantasies?” she said, looking at him over the rim of her mug.

“Sexual fantasies?”

“Well, I’m not talking about your dream about one day being Prime Minster.”

“That’s definitely a fantasy.” Marcus laughed.

“So, do you?” said Abby, unwilling to let this go now she’d asked him.

He pulled a face as though he was thinking. “Not really.”

“Not really? That means you do but you don’t want to tell me.”

“Not at all.”

“Do you want me to dress up like Margaret Thatcher?”

Marcus shook his head. “God, no.”

“Do YOU want to dress up like Margaret Thatcher?”

He laughed hard at that, and then pulled a disgusted face. “I have no fantasies about Thatcher or any politicians, or about wearing women’s clothes.”

“What is it then? Come on, you can tell me. Do you want to cover me in biscuit crumbs and lick them all off?” Abby smirked at him.

“I would definitely like to do that!” he said.

“I can arrange it.”

Marcus laughed. He took another sip of his tea. “When I first met you, I suppose I did have a fantasy.” He paused and looked at her.

“What was it?”

“That you would march into my office one day, all annoyed with me over something, and in the middle of arguing you’d grab me, push me down on my desk and ravish me.”

“Oh! I like that. That’s quite a hot fantasy. Did you have it a lot?”

“I may have, once or twice.”

“Did you get off to it?” she whispered teasingly.

He looked at her almost shyly. He surely wasn’t embarrassed about this after everything they’d done?

“Once or twice,” he said, and then he smirked at her, before drinking more of his tea.

“Imagine if you’d never invited me to the Town Hall that day,” said Abby. “We’d just be two lonely wankers.”

Marcus snorted mid-drink and tea sprayed everywhere, all over him, all over the bedsheets. He choked and coughed.

“Are you okay?” said Abby, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. She rubbed his back.

“Yes,” he spluttered. “Some warning next time.”

“Sorry.”

Then he looked at her and they both started laughing again until tears were rolling down Abby’s cheeks. “Stop it now!” she said when her side started to ache.

“Oh, God,” said Marcus. “No one’s ever made me laugh like you do.”

“I never thought I was all that funny before.”

“You are.” He wiped a tear from his own face. “I suppose we’d better change the sheets.

“Go and get washed up. I’ll sort out the sheets.”

Marcus leaned across and kissed her, and then disappeared into the bathroom. Abby bundled up the sheets and went downstairs to put them in the washing machine.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr Mayor?” she said when Marcus appeared fully dressed, his hair damp waves that were getting slightly too long again, the edges of them flicking up off his collar.

“I need to go to the Town Hall to sign some papers.”

“Will that take long?”

“I don’t think so. An hour at the most.”

“Do you need me with you?”

“I don’t need you with me but it might be better if you were. Is there an internet signal yet?”

Abby checked her phone. “No.”

“So we don’t know if anything’s been released.”

“If we walk in the Town Hall and get funny looks then we’ll know,” said Abby.

“This is torture,” said Marcus, rubbing his temples.

“I know. We just have to take the day as it comes. Do you want to go out and get breakfast while we wait for the washing machine? Then we can go to the Town Hall.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay. I’ll grab a quick shower and then we can go.”

\---

A couple of hours later Abby and Marcus entered the Town Hall. No one had looked at them strangely in the café and no one had commented so Abby felt reassured that the stalker hadn’t released the photos of her. Maybe calling their bluff had done the trick. Councillors Fuji and Muir were present in the council chamber but there was no sign of Jaha. Abby was relieved. She wasn’t in the mood for his condescension and certainly not for Caroline.

“Mayor Kane,” said Councillor Fuji, holding out his hand to Marcus.

“Morning. It still sounds strange to hear that,” said Marcus with a smile.

“Well deserved, in my opinion. It was time for a new broom.”

“I hope I can do your faith justice.”

“Of course you will. Now if you wouldn’t mind coming through to the administration office there’s just a few more papers to sign.” He touched Marcus’s elbow to guide him towards the door they’d gone through the night before. “We won’t be long, Mrs Griffin,” he said to Abby.

“Erm...” Marcus looked at Abby. He wouldn’t want to leave her alone but at the same time it would seem odd asking to take your girlfriend everywhere with you. Abby could see that dilemma in his pained expression.

“You go on. I’ll stay right her. I promise,” she said.

Marcus looked at her a moment longer, then left with Councillor Fuji.

Abby sat on the edge of the stage and looked around the room. Such a lot had happened in this building, all related to Marcus. Her life was intertwined with his now, like the flowers on the cufflinks she’d made him. He was wearing them again today; she could see the outline of them beneath his sweater. They would go home after this, to his house, and the mere fact she thought of it as home was telling. It had become more of a home to her than the cottage she was renting, which was beautiful, but had only ever been temporary. Abby hadn’t put her artwork on those walls; she hadn’t done anything personal to it, because she hadn’t wanted to fall in love with a place, to put down roots in this northern town.

At Marcus’s house her paintings were on the walls, photographs of her were framed, the picture of them that had been in the paper was in his study. She had a dressing room, her own bathroom. The adjustments she’d had to make to live with his compulsions hadn’t been that big. It was easy enough to put a coaster under a cup, to tidy things away. Were they merging their lives, though, or was she being subsumed by him?

He had made a lot of compromise too, more so probably, because it was harder for him to share his space with her, to give up control of everything than it was for Abby. It made no sense for him to leave his house to live with her in a small rented cottage. It was natural that they should gravitate towards making his place their home. She still had her job, and her online gallery was about to launch. She needed a new car because she definitely didn’t want to be reliant on him for getting around. And she needed space, space to create, to make her own, to keep some separation, some independence. That was good for both of them.

He’d offered to build her a studio, but would that make her beholden to him? She could never afford it herself, not until she’d sold a lot of paintings, and to do that she needed proper space. It would be a wonderful place to paint up on the moors, with the infinite skies and the ever-changing light. Was she ready for this? In the new year, maybe. They’d have been together what, six or seven months? It didn’t seem long, and yet happiness wasn’t measured in time. It did feel right with him, and she loved him and cared for him.

That was settled then. In the new year she would say yes to the studio, yes to committing her life to his. She felt relief having made this decision, even though she wasn’t going to tell him. It was okay to be happy. She deserved it.

The door opened and Marcus came out beaming, carrying a long black box.

“What’s that?” said Abby, jumping down off the stage.

“The chain of office.” He opened the box to show her. “I get to keep it now, well for the length of my term.”

“That’s awesome,” said Abby with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“We have to honour the sanctity of the office of Mayor,” Marcus said in a serious voice.

“Like we did in here, you mean?”

Marcus laughed. “I wasn’t Mayor then.”

“So you won’t want me to act out your fantasy when you have your own office here?”

Marcus’s eyes grew wide. “I did not say that!”

Abby smiled, and she took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

\---

“I need to look for a new car,” said Abby as they drove over the moors, passing the spot where her Volvo had gone into the ditch. The day was misty again, like it had been that night.

“What kind of car are you thinking of?”

“Whatever I can afford.”

“What are you getting from the insurers?”

“Not much. A thousand pounds at the most they said.”

Marcus sucked in air between his teeth. “That’s not going to buy you much.”

“I know. That’s how I ended up with the Volvo last time, and it cost more than a grand.”

“I can give you the money,” said Marcus, as he pressed a button in the car and the gate to his house swung open.

Abby had been expecting him to say that, because he was kind and generous and he wouldn’t think twice about it, but if she was going to live in his house and let him build a studio she wasn’t going to let him buy her a car as well.

“No. I appreciate the offer, but I want to pay for it myself.”

Marcus pulled up in his usual space. He turned to look at her.

“I understand that, but if you’re going to be coming up here more often, especially in winter, I’d rather you had a good car, something reliable.”

His thoughtfulness touched Abby, but she wasn’t going to give in. “It’s a lovely thought, but I don’t want you to buy me a car, Marcus. I’ll get the best I can afford, I promise.” She opened the door and got out. Marcus did the same. They walked to the front door side by side.

“It’s for my peace of mind as well. What if you find the car you really want, cost aside, and I’ll loan you the difference? You can pay me back once your gallery is off the ground.”

Abby couldn’t think of a reason to say no to that, so she didn’t. “That sounds like a good compromise. Thank you.” She reached up and kissed him.

“We can look online this afternoon if you like,” Marcus said as he put his key in the lock, turned it.

“That would be great.” Abby smiled, and followed Marcus through the door. A large manila envelope was sitting on the mat and she picked it up, handed it to Marcus.

“I was thinking a four-by-four, something that can take all weather conditions,” he said, taking the envelope from her.

“I don’t know how you drive around here in your Aston Martin in the winter.”

“I’m used to it.” Marcus grinned at her. He put the envelope on the kitchen island, picked up the kettle and put it on the hob. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Abby took off her coat, hung it up on the peg.

Marcus handed her a mug of tea and they stood on opposite sides of the island. “What do you want to do today apart from look for cars?”

“Not much. I’m pretty tired. Watch a film maybe?”

“Do I get to choose it this time?” Marcus eyed her slyly as he opened the envelope.

“That depends. What are you thinking?”

“Something manly. Humphrey Bogart, Spencer Tracy.”

“That’s your definition of manly, is it?”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” Marcus slid the contents of the envelope out onto the island. “Oh, it’s a report from the private investigator.”

Abby’s blood ran cold and hot at the same time. “What does it say?”

Marcus flicked through the pages. “He’s been looking into Jon’s background, the guy who died.”

“I remember who he is. Is there anything new?” Abby moved to stand next to Marcus so she could look over his shoulder at the report.

“Erm, his mum and dad are still alive. They’re in Canada where they emigrated to after he died. He had a brother, but I knew that. Oh, there’s another boy in the family, a young one, born in Canada. That’s nice. I’m glad about that.” Marcus looked up at Abby and smiled.

“He had a brother, at the time he died?” Gears started to whir in Abby’s brain. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Something was about to click into place, but not quite yet, it was still out of reach.

“Yes, Martin. I never met him, he was much younger than Jon.”

“How much younger?”

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. Ten, twelve years maybe.”

“So he’d be thirty now?”

“I suppose. Why do you ask?” Marcus frowned at her.

“You never thought it could be someone from the family, harassing us?”

Marcus shook his head. “No. The family never blamed me for what happened, and besides they’re all in Canada.”

Abby sipped her tea, let her mind go blank. Something someone said at the election, someone who she’d talked to. The gear clicked into place and Abby’s heart leapt out of her chest, and her skin crawled with the realisation. “Oh, God!” she said.

“What is it?” said Marcus in an alarmed voice.

“Jackson.”

“Jackson? What about him?”

“He had a brother who died, he told me when we had dinner. Then at the election, remember when I said someone had said something that bothered me?”

Marcus nodded, a confused look still plastered on his face.

“He was asking if you had changed since your accident, said a blow to the back of the head could affect someone in ways we can’t see.”

“So? He was concerned about me. He’s a doctor.”

“We didn’t tell anyone exactly how you were injured did we?”

Marcus thought for a moment. “No, but the newspaper said I’d sustained a head injury.”

“It didn’t say where, though. Did you tell him you hit the back of your head?”

“I don’t talk to him about anything personal.”

“Exactly, and by the time you went back to work your hair had grown and covered the wound, so how would he know?”

“It still seems a bit tenuous, Abby. If someone falls it’s natural to assume they hit the back of their head.”

Marcus’s rebuttals to her theories were making Abby less sure of herself. He was right, but Jackson had been confident about the wound, and there were other things.

“When we had dinner he was constantly putting you down, and he said justice was very important to him.” She tried to think of the exact words. “I am a believer in justice, he said.”

“But he’s called Eric Jackson, not Martin Osman,” said Marcus.

“People change their names, Marcus.”

Marcus shook his head. He was either being stubborn or he really didn’t believe that Jackson was his friend’s brother. Maybe Abby was wrong, but something in her gut was telling her she was right. It made a lot of sense for it to be someone like Jackson, someone close to them but not close enough to be considered a suspect.

“He knew you weren’t going to be home that Friday night, when you were attacked. I told him you wouldn’t be back until late,” Abby continued.

“So I surprised him?” Marcus sighed deeply. “I don’t know, Abby. Jackson? It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Does the report say anything else about the brother?”

Marcus turned back to the start and they read the pages together. The creak of a door opening made them both jump, and they turned towards the sound to look. Jackson was standing in the doorway that led to Marcus’s study.

“That was painful to listen to,” he said.

Abby’s stomach dropped and her chest tightened. Marcus gripped her arm, moved so that he was standing more in front of her.

“So it’s true, then? It is you?”

“For someone so clever you are remarkably slow on the uptake.” Jackson walked further into the room and Marcus pushed Abby further behind him.

“What do you want?” said Marcus.

“I’m not here for Abby. There’s no need to protect her.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say.”

Abby glanced around the room while Marcus was speaking, looking for a possible weapon. There was the knife block on the other side of the island, and when she looked at it she realised one of the knives was missing, the largest one. Oh, fuck. Jackson’s hands were behind his back as he walked closer. Did he have the knife? How was she going to warn Marcus? Her heart was racing so fast it was painful. Keep calm, keep calm. You need to be able to think, she told herself.

“Abby is only guilty of having poor taste in men,” replied Jackson as he took another step forward, “whereas you are guilty of a lot more than that.”

“You think I’m responsible for your brother’s death. I’m not.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe a word YOU say.”

“Marcus didn’t attack David, Jackson. It wasn’t him.” Abby tried to step away from Marcus so she could reason with Jackson properly, but Marcus was strong, and his grip on her arm was painful. She didn’t want to force herself away from him and give Jackson any reason to think she and Marcus weren’t a team, so she stayed where she was. For now.

“Abby, you’re sweet and trusting, I told you that a while ago, but you don’t know the truth. You only know what he’s told you.”

Abby did know the truth, because Jaha had as good as admitted it, but Marcus squeezed her arm as a sign she interpreted to mean keep quiet. It wasn’t her story to tell.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?” said Marcus. “I can tell you everything I know.”

“There is nothing to talk about because I know you are going to lie. What’s the point?”

Jackson’s voice was rising in pitch as he spoke and his cheeks were reddening. He was angry. Abby thought he’d been calm so far, but it hadn’t been that, it had been a quiet, seething anger, and now it was building. She was fearful, wondering where the knife was, what he was going to do with it, what he wanted from Marcus.

“I won’t lie,” said Marcus, his own voice calm and soothing. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

“No!” said Jackson, and he put his hand to his head, the knife glinting in it.

Abby heard Marcus’s intake of breath. His grip got tighter, and he turned to look at her. “Go,” he mouthed. Abby shook her head. Marcus frowned. His face was white, his hand sweaty where it gripped hers.

“Stop talking to me like that, stop trying to play me. You’ve lied your whole life. You’re a cheat and a liar and a murderer.”

“I’m none of those things,” said Marcus. “I was devasted when Jon went to prison. I campaigned for his release, you must know that.”

“Yes, to hide your guilt. What better way to seem innocent than by supporting the person you’ve left to rot?”

“I didn’t attack David. I didn’t leave Jon to rot in jail. I tried to help.”

“Don’t... don’t say his name. Stop saying his name. You have no right to say that name.” Jackson waved the knife in the air and took another step towards them.

“I’m sorry,” said Marcus. “I won’t say it again.” He took a step back towards the kitchen counter, taking Abby with him. Abby looked around again. There was only one way out from here, and that was to her left. If Jackson came to the right of the counter she and Marcus could run to the door; they were closer to it than him. If he came to the left, then they’d be trapped.

Jackson took a step to the left-hand side of the island. Shit. Had he figured out the same thing, or was he just lucky? Abby looked closely at him. His eyes were dark and wide, the pupils huge. He was staring at Marcus with pure hatred. She wasn’t sure he was capable of rational thinking. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Martin,” said Marcus, and Jackson pointed the knife at him.

“I’m not Martin. I left that loser behind a long time ago.”

“Pardon me. Jackson. What can I do to convince you that I’m not guilty?”

“Nothing! There’s nothing you can say because I know you’re guilty. I know it in here.” Jackson punched his chest twice with the handle of the knife. “I’ve spent years researching you, Kane. I know everything about you. EVERYTHING! You’ve prospered while my brother lies dead.”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t attack David. I’m not the cause of your pain, Jackson.”

Jackson lurched forward, slammed the knife on the countertop. “You’re the cause of everything! I lost my brother because of you. I lost my family because of you. I lost my boyfriend because of you. They’re all gone, and you’re still here. You’re still here and you have everything. God, I can’t stand to see your smiling face. You were miserable for so long, shut up here all alone, and I enjoyed that. I used to watch you sometimes, and you never saw anyone, never talked to anyone, no one called you, no woman ever came here, you were more alone than me and I thought that was fitting, because you don’t deserve happiness. Then SHE came along.” He picked up the knife again and pointed it at Abby.

“Don’t point that at Abby,” said Marcus. “Point it at me.”

Jackson ignored him, continued pointing the knife at Abby. He was only a couple of metres away now.

“She comes along and for some reason that I’ll never understand she liked you. I didn’t think it was possible when I brought her to the prison. As if a woman like that would fall for someone like you, but she did. And every day you came into the prison with a smug, satisfied smile on your face, and I wanted to punch you. I came into the therapy room that day and you’d been all over her, having sex with her. In the prison! I could hear you through the door, moaning and groaning, God, it was disgusting.”

Abby remembered that day well. Jackson hadn’t betrayed any feelings whatsoever when he’d entered the room. She hadn’t been sure he’d even realised what they’d been doing, so unaware he’d seemed, so innocent. He’d hidden all of this well.

“I’m sorry that you saw that,” said Marcus, “but I’m not the man you think I am. I...”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Jackson was screaming now. He was losing control, the knife waving in his hand. He rounded the island, forcing Marcus and Abby into the corner. “I don’t want to hear your voice.”

“Jackson,” said Abby, because if Marcus couldn’t speak then she knew she had to. Someone had to try and keep things calm. “What do you want from us?”

“I don’t want anything from you. I want HIM to suffer. I want him to feel the pain I’ve felt. That’s all I’ve wanted. I thought if I took his dream from him, if he couldn’t be Mayor, he would blame you, and dump you and be miserable again, but he didn’t. I had to watch while he just got happier and happier. Nothing I did worked. The more I lost the more he gained.”

“Are you talking about Nate? Has something happened between you? You can talk to me. You can talk to me now. We’ll go into another room, just you and me, and we’ll talk and I can help you.” Abby freed herself from Marcus’s grip, took a step towards Jackson.

“Abby, no,” said Marcus, reaching out to try and grab her, but Abby shook him off.

“We can work this out,” continued Abby, ignoring Marcus. “No one needs to know what’s happened here. We can get to the bottom of all of this, and then get you the help that you need. It will all be alright, Jackson. I promise.”

“You know, I didn’t want to hurt you,” said Jackson in a calm voice, “because despite the fact that you are with him I like you. I really do, but I’ve realised something just now.”

“What’s that?” said Abby, her pulse racing.

“You’re the only thing he cares about.” He rushed forward, grabbed Abby and pulled her to him before she or Marcus had chance to react. He walked backwards with her, away from Marcus. Abby felt the sharp point of the knife at her throat.

“Abby!” screamed Marcus, and he lunged towards her and Jackson, but Jackson pressed the point of the knife harder, and Abby felt it break the delicate skin. It didn’t hurt, but she knew it must look terrifying to Marcus.

“Stay away, Kane, or I’ll slit her throat. Or maybe I won’t, maybe I’ll press the knife into the right part of her cerebral cortex and she’ll either be paralysed or a vegetable for the rest of her life. I know exactly what to do. I bet you’ll run from her then, eh? You won’t want damaged goods; that won’t fit the perfect life of Marcus Kane. Imagine the mess she’ll create!”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” said Marcus, his dark eyes flashing.

Abby could feel Jackson shrug. “It will be too late by then.”

“Then don’t hurt Abby, she’s innocent in all of this. Take me.”

“Are you admitting your guilt, Kane?”

Marcus raised his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Yes. It was me. I was the one who beat David. I’m responsible for Jon’s death. It was all me.”

Abby stared at him. What the hell was he playing at? He stared back at her, gave her a slight nod. Abby wasn’t sure what he meant.

“I knew it!” Jackson relaxed the arm that was holding the knife and in that instant Abby stabbed her elbow into his chest. He fell to one knee, his hand gripping his chest. The knife clattered to the floor.

Marcus ran forward, diving to the floor to grab the knife but Jackson was quicker. He got his hand on it before Marcus did and the two wrestled, rolling around the floor. Abby kicked out at Jackson, connecting with his thigh, and he lashed out, stabbing her in the leg. She fell to the floor.

She could see the two men out of the corner of her eye as she lay winded. Jackson was stabbing the knife at Marcus who kept rolling out of the way until Jackson ended up on top of Marcus and moved to stab down at him. Marcus grabbed the blade of the knife, pushed it away. Blood spurted from his hand as the knife sliced into it. Abby tried to scramble to her feet but blood was pouring out of her leg.

“Abby! Don’t move, don’t move!” shouted Marcus as he fought with Jackson.

Marcus managed to get from under Jackson and half-crawled towards the door, away from Abby. Behind him Jackson was getting to his feet.

“Watch out, Marcus!”

Jackson ran towards Marcus who scrambled to his feet and ran to the door, flinging it open and running out into the cold misty air. Jackson followed, and then there was silence in the room. Abby felt sick. She tore off a piece of her blouse and wrapped it around her leg to stem the blood flow which already seemed to be clotting thankfully. The wound didn’t appear too deep.

She crawled to the living room, grabbed her bag from the coffee table and searched in it for her phone, pulling it out and dialling the emergency services. It felt like an age before they answered, and then she screamed into the phone for them to come, before hobbling out of the door herself. She looked around. There was no sign of Marcus or Jackson. Fuck! Where the hell had they gone?

Abby stood still and listened, trying to see if she could hear something, anything, but there was only the muffled sound of the sheep bleating and the gulls crying. She examined the ground, and saw a blood drop on the patio, then another. There was a trail of them, leading to the gate that gave onto the moor. Abby followed, loping along with her injured leg, feeling like a monster out of an old black and white flick.

Up onto the tops she staggered, running as fast as she could, which wasn’t fast enough. Her lungs were gasping for air, her vision felt blurry. It was like a nightmare she sometimes had, where she was trying to run but wasn’t getting anywhere, as though her legs were stuck in treacle. She pressed on regardless, passing the steep part where Marcus had helped her the first time they’d come up here, then any trace of a path disappeared. Abby stopped. The mist was low, and there was no sea view, no blue sky, just the brown heather beneath her feet and the echoing calls of the sheep. How was she going to find Marcus in this?

She walked on, slower now because the ground had become slippery with dew and her leg was aching. A flat stone lay ahead and Abby felt a stab of familiarity. It was the stone she’d posed on for Marcus when he’d taken her picture. She reached it and lying on top was a shiny silver object. She bent to pick it up. Marcus’s cufflink. Relief flooded her, albeit briefly. He’d left her a clue, so she was on the right track, but she must be a long way behind, because they were running and she could only limp.

After they’d posed on this stone Marcus had taken her to the cave. Maybe that’s where he was heading? It would make sense because he could hide from Jackson there, assuming he had got away from him, but she wasn’t sure of the direction. If she kept the cliff edge to her left then she would get there eventually, surely?

She set off again but walking close to the edge was harder to do than she’d thought. The ground was rocky and soon gave way to a scree that was unstable beneath her feet. More than once an eroded section brought Abby perilously close to the edge. She stopped herself in time, but the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below sent fear and adrenaline coursing through her. What was she doing? This was crazy! She should have waited for the emergency services but what if they couldn’t get here because of the fog? She couldn’t have sat still not knowing if Marcus was alive or dead, not if there was a chance she could save him.

A few more minutes and she was reaching her limit of endurance. She was exhausted, her thighs shaking with the effort of moving, her body weakening. She looked down at her leg. Blood had soaked through the bandage and was streaking her calf. Just keep going, keep going. She had her head down now, not just to look at where she was going but because it had become too heavy to lift. The scree gave way to grass and she almost stood on the second cufflink. She picked it up and surveyed her surroundings. She must be close now. The mist was lifting and she could see further. Yes, this was the point where Marcus had disappeared last time and she’d worried he’d gone over the cliff.

She walked slowly, carefully along the narrow grassy shelf before pausing. What if Jackson were here? She hadn’t really considered him, had just wanted to get to Marcus, but what if he was in the cave as well? What if he still had the knife? She was going to blunder in there and then what? There had barely been room for her and Marcus let alone three of them. Think, think! She would have the element of surprise. If Jackson was there she could rush him, get the knife off him, force him out. This was madness. She took a deep breath. What will be, will be.

She crept along the shelf until it widened and she could see the lip of the overhang. She pressed herself against the rock and then put her head around the corner quickly. What she saw made her blood run cold. Marcus was lying on the floor face down and Jackson was leaning over him, holding the knife. There was blood on the knife, a lot of it.

Abby’s heart rate shot through the roof, and she went completely cold. She had to do something, otherwise he was going to kill Marcus in front of her if he hadn’t already. She looked around for a rock, anything she could use as a weapon, but there was only grass.

“Jackson,” she said in as calm a voice as she could manage. The young man looked up, startled. “You’ve hurt him enough. It’s enough.”

“It will never be enough until he’s dead.”

Abby inched into the cave until she was standing beneath the overhang. Jackson was only a couple of feet away.

“You are targeting the wrong man. It wasn’t Marcus.”

Jackson stood so that he was facing Abby. “You keep saying that, but you’re blinded by him, Abby. You don’t really know him.”

“I do know him, and he is kind and generous and loving and he’s not perfect but none of us are. He’s not the man you think he is. He didn’t do it, Jackson. You have to trust me.”

Jackson looked down at Marcus and then back at Abby. “If you’re so sure he didn’t do it then who did? Can you tell me that?”

Abby closed her eyes for a second. It would be so easy to say Jaha, to place the blame where it belonged, but then what? Jackson goes after him, kills him? If Marcus had wanted Jackson to know he would have told him.

“I can’t tell you,” she said at last, and her heart sank as Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and his face darkened.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because what are you going to do? Go and kill that person? Marcus wouldn’t want to put him in this situation. He couldn’t live with himself.”

Jackson laughed. “You really are deluded. Have you met Kane? The only person he’s interested in is himself and what makes him happy.”

“That’s not true, Jackson.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I am sick of talking about him, thinking about him. You know Nate left me, right? Got fed up of my obsession with my brother’s death, and my family don’t speak to me.”

“I didn’t realise that, Jackson. I’m sorry. You seemed so happy he was back from training.”

“He never came back from training; he’d already gone by the time we had dinner. He left when you first came on the scene.”

Abby was shocked at this revelation. Nothing Jackson had said to her over the months was true. He’d been lying about everything.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She glanced at Marcus, who hadn’t moved since she’d arrived. She desperately wanted to get to him, to help him, but she had to get Jackson out of the way, and she didn’t know how she was going to do that.

“You know, when I think about it,” said Jackson as he walked towards Abby. “You’re the one to blame for all this.” He gestured at Marcus.

Abby’s blood ran cold at his menacing tone.

“Before you arrived he was miserable and alone, and I was happy. I had Nate. Everything was fine. Then you’re here and it all changes.” He stepped closer. If he reached out now he could touch her, he could stab her. Abby tried to take a step back but her heel caught the edge of the cliff.

“You need help, Jackson. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

“What are we going to do, draw my pain?” He laughed bitterly. “No, I think the only thing that will help me is knowing both of you are out of my life for good.”

Abby was watching him carefully and she saw him pull his arm back in readiness to lunge at her. She couldn’t let him get any momentum because one touch and she’d be over the edge. She waited, and as soon as his arm came towards her she ducked and kicked out at him, sending him sprawling to the floor. It took less than a second. The knife clattered to the stone, bounced and landed in the grass. Jackson reached for it, and Abby kicked it away, over the edge and down into the sea below.

“No!” Jackson screamed, and he grabbed Abby’s ankle, sending her off balance. She landed on the floor in a heap and Jackson tried to straddle her but she fought him. They rolled over, closer and closer to the edge, until Abby managed to kick out one more time and Jackson rolled off the cliff without so much as a cry. Abby crawled to the edge and looked down, but there was nothing to see except the swirling mist. She lay there for a second, her heart beating out of her chest, her limbs weak with shock, and then she forced herself to turn over and crawled back into the cave.

“Marcus!” she shouted, as she reached him and dragged herself up to kneel beside his prone body. She put her hand on his back, looked him over quickly. There was no sign of blood. She turned him over. His eyes were closed and his lips were blue. There was a deep gash on his head that she hadn’t seen because his face had been obscured, and when she put her hand on his chest it came away sticky with blood that had soaked unseen into his dark blue sweater. She tried to lift the sweater and his shirt to examine the wound but they were stuck to his skin, and she thought removing them might do more harm than good.

“Marcus, oh please be okay, please be okay.” She watched and listened for a breath and it was a long time before his chest rose and fell and a ragged, bubbly sound came out of his mouth. This wasn’t good, not good at all. Abby pulled her phone from her pocket but it slipped out of her bloody hands and fell to the floor, cracking the screen. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She picked it up, tried to swipe it to bring up the lock screen but nothing happened. Tears pricked at her eyes. How would the emergency services know where they were?

She lay back with Marcus cradled in her arms. Exhaustion was clouding her ability to think. She let herself drift for a moment, then it came to her. Marcus’s phone. She wiped her hands on the remains of her blouse and felt in his pockets until she found the phone. She took it out with shaking fingers, taking deep breaths to calm herself before pressing the emergency call button.

“It’s Abby Griffin,” she said when she was put through to the ambulance service. “I called a while ago to report that my partner and I had been attacked in our home.”

“We have a register of that call, Ms Griffin. The air ambulance is on its way.”

“We’re not in the house anymore. We’re up on the moors. I don’t know exactly where but there’s a cave on the edge of the cliff. You can see the Isle of Man from it.” She wasn’t sure if that last part was important information but it was the only thing she could remember from when they’d last been in here.

“Your phone’s GPS signal will give the helicopter a good idea where you are. Can you get somewhere visible so they can locate you exactly?”

“Yes, yes I can do that.”

“If you can please Ms Griffin. They’ll be with you in five minutes.”

“Please tell them to hurry. Marcus, he’s...he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.” Tears flowed down Abby’s cheeks and she sobbed into the phone.

“Keep calm, Abby. It will be okay,” said the operator in a soothing voice. “They’re on their way. Go and make yourself seen.”

“I will.”

Abby kissed Marcus on the cheek. “I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere, okay. Don’t die on me, Marcus. Don’t you dare. I love you.”

She tried to stand but a searing pain shot through her leg, which gave way and she collapsed onto the stone floor, banging her head on the cold rock. Pain exploded behind her eyes, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a few of you thought that Kane might be the protaganist and you don't know how close I came to making that happen :) I'd set it up so that he could be a suspect. He's an obsessive, lonely man when we meet him. His wife left him because of his ways, or so he thinks, and he feels he is unworthy of love. Then he meets Abby and he falls hard for her. It could have been possible that he became obsessed with her to an extent that he did things to bring her closer to him, to keep her with him, to make her feel attached to him, empathetic to his situation as a man whose trust was betrayed, just like hers.
> 
> He could have written the letters himself, arranged the photo, he could have paid someone to walk past his window, to attack him. All these things brought them closer together. It could be seen if you had a certain mindset that he has gradually isolated Abby. She's living out there with him, she works for him, someone drives her off the road so she has no car, and who should conveniently come along to rescue her but Kane. Her life has merged into his, as she herself considers. 
> 
> At the same time I was expecting it to be Jackson. He was the one I had in mind from the start. But up until this chapter I wasn't 100% sure which one I was going to choose. It all came down to the scene I wrote at the beginning of this chapter, when Kane acts out Abby's fantasy for her and they were so cute together I thought first of all I can't do this to Abby. She's been through so much and she's finally trusting this man and to take that from her, to ruin the rest of her life - well I love her too much to do it. Secondly, it was just too obvious to me how much Marcus loves her. I didn't want to spoil that love by tainting it.
> 
> So that's why I went with Jackson, my original idea, but it could have been Kane, and I suspect if it had been, it wouldn't have just been Abby's heart that was broken ;)


	24. Testing Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end.

**Six Weeks Later**

When Abby woke it was still dark and it took her eyes a minute to adjust to the blackness. She turned over and automatically reached out for Marcus, but of course he wasn’t there. It was cold in the room and she didn’t want to get out of bed because she felt sick, but she forced herself. There was a lot to do today. She pulled on a pair of thick woollen socks and wrapped herself in a fluffy dressing gown she’d bought recently. She looked out of the window as she headed for the stairs. Stars still dotted the sky, but there was a faint orange glow to the east, so the sun was about to make an appearance. Maybe it would bring some warmth.

She padded into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil and stood staring out of the window while she waited. The sky was lightening, turning slate-blue. It promised to be a beautiful day. A floorboard creaked behind her and two arms slipped around her waist and cold lips pressed against her neck.

“Are you making one for me?” said Marcus as he pressed his hands against her belly and squeezed her.

“I think you need one. Your lips are freezing! Where have you been?”

“I went to that little patch of woodland next to the loch. I heard a barn owl, thought I might be able to see it.”

“Did you?” said Abby as she pulled his arms from around her so she could make a pot of tea.

“No, but it was there, screeching. I think it was mocking me.”

Abby laughed. “I’m sure it’s used to you by now. You’re up at the crack of dawn every day.”

“It’s just so beautiful here. There’s a lot to see.”

“I know, but I miss you when I wake up,” she said, handing him his tea.

Marcus leaned forward and kissed her. “Sorry. I’ll stay in bed with you tomorrow.”

“You’d better. It’s Christmas Day!”

He smiled. “I’m aware of that. I have surprises.”

Abby put her cup down on the counter, then put her arms around him, her hands resting on the curve of his arse. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not going to tell you, am I?”

“I don’t know if I can wait.”

Marcus kissed her nose. “It’s only one more day.”

“Hmmm. Do you want to come back to bed with me now?” Abby stretched up so she could kiss his cheek, sliding her lips along his cheekbones, over his jaw, down to his neck.

Marcus moaned. “What about our walk?”

“It’s still dark. A few minutes won’t make a difference.”

“A few minutes?” said Marcus as he followed her up the stairs. “Your expectations are low.”

“Well it’s cold, so I was thinking some vigorous action would warm us up.” Abby opened the door to the bedroom and then stood facing Marcus.

“You can always keep that robe on. It’s kind of hot.”

“Two people naked together is best for warmth,” said Abby as she slowly undid the ties and let the robe fall open.

\---

It was two hours before they’d finally set off on their walk along the banks of Loch Lomond, and the blue sky was darkening as they returned to their cottage.

“You know, we don’t have a Christmas tree,” said Abby as she took off her jacket and hung it on the peg in the boot room. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“Ah, well that is one of your surprises,” said Marcus, who was still wearing his jacket and boots.

Abby frowned. “Did you hide a tree in the Land Rover, because I know it’s a big car but it’s not _that_ spacious. I’m sure I’d have noticed.”

“No.” Marcus grinned at her smugly. “I’m going to cut one down for you.”

“From where?”

Marcus gestured behind him. “Out there. There’s thousands of trees in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed, but you can’t just cut a random tree down, Marcus. It’s not your land.”

“That’s why I obtained special permission from the landowner before we came up here.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Abby was impressed with his forethought. She wasn’t as convinced about his ability to fell a tree though. “Have you ever done this before?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything.” He turned to head outside and Abby hurriedly put her boots back on.

“This I have to see,” she said as she pulled on her jacket and followed Marcus to a shed where he retrieved a saw. She watched as he stood in front of a group of conifers and contemplated them.

“What about that one?” he said pointing to a large fir tree.

“It has to fit inside the house, Marcus! That one’s cute.” Abby picked out a smaller pine tree with silvery-blue needles.

“You like that one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Marcus sank slowly to his knees beside the tree. “Stand well back,” he said.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet or something?”

“It’s not that big a tree. I’ll be fine.”

“You just don’t want to mess up your hair.”

Marcus grinned at her, then he sawed a cut into the front of the tree before moving to the other side and putting a cut into the back.

“I thought you hadn’t done this before?” said Abby, impressed at his effort.

“I googled how to do it.”

“Of course you did.”

“It should have fallen over by now, though.” He stood up and pushed on the tree but it didn’t give way.

“Maybe you haven’t cut far enough.”

“You’re supposed to leave a hinge.”

“Hmmm.” Abby walked over to the tree and examined it. “I think you need to cut it some more.”

“Okay.” Marcus put the saw back in the cut and huffed and puffed while he tried to get it through the tree. “Can you push on it? It’s trapping the saw.”

Abby pushed on the tree and it creaked and then Marcus gave a shout of triumph as it started to fall. “Move back!” he said, and he dragged Abby out of the way and they watched it drop to the ground with a satisfying crash.

“Well done!” Abby said, and gave him a kiss.

“Thanks. Now it has to be dragged into the house.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Abby said, and she headed back to the cottage, chuckling to herself as Marcus cursed at her and the tree he was trying to pull along the frosty ground.

Half an hour later and the tree was standing in a wooden bucket in the corner of the living room. Marcus was admiring it when Abby brought him a cup of hot chocolate.

“I guess we have to decorate it somehow,” she said.

“There are some decorations in one of the cupboards according to the landlord. I’ll leave that to you,” said Marcus.

“Me? Why, because I’m the girl?”

“No, because you’re the artist, and also you made me drag it in by myself, so fair’s fair.”

Abby mock sighed. “Can’t argue with that.”

“I’ll make dinner as compensation,” said Marcus.

He disappeared into the kitchen and Abby found the box of Christmas decorations. They were old-fashioned so she pulled out the best ones and then went out to the garden to gather holly, snowberry and pine cones. The red and white of the berries looked good against the blue needles. Marcus returned as she was stringing the last of the lights around the bottom of the tree.

“Looks beautiful,” he said.

“There’s just one thing left.” Abby handed him a fat Father Christmas dressed in a kilt. “I can’t reach the top.”

He reached up effortlessly and placed the figure on the top of the tree. “Perfect.”

“We’d better test the lights.” Abby plugged in the fairy lights and flicked the switch. The tree lit up with silvery-white light.

Marcus dimmed the wall lights and they sat together on the sofa watching the tree.

“Now it feels like Christmas,” Abby said. “Thank you for my tree.”

“You’re welcome.”

“This is the first Christmas I’ve celebrated in three years.” Abby curled her knees up and leaned in towards Marcus. He stroked her hair.

“I can beat you there.”

“Did you not bother in your house?”

“No. There didn’t seem much point.”

“We can make this one special.”

“It’s already special.” He kissed her, and they lay in each other’s arms for a while, making out like two teenagers, until Marcus’s phone buzzed, interrupting them.

“Who’s that?” said Abby, annoyed because she was warming up nicely under his caresses.

“No one. It’s a timer I set. Dinner is nearly ready.”

“You and your timers.” Abby laughed.

“Being efficient means I get to spend more time with you.”

“Then I can’t complain.” Abby followed him into the kitchen. “What are we having?”

“Stovies.” Marcus stirred a pot, tasted a spoonful and then added salt and pepper.

“What’s that?”

“Meat and potatoes, basically. It’s a very traditional Scottish dish.”

“It smells wonderful.”

“Take these to the table and choose a bottle of wine.” He handed Abby a plate of pickled beetroot and some oat cakes and she placed them on the table before selecting the Shiraz they both liked from the large number of bottles they’d brought with them. She was pouring Marcus a glass when he arrived with two bowls of steaming stew.

Abby noticed him wince as he bent to set them on the table. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“You winced then. I saw it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, smiling at her. “Eat your dinner.”

Abby wasn’t going to let him fob her off that easily. “Is your chest hurting?”

“A little. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Marcus. Tell me the truth.”

“I pulled the muscle earlier that’s all. It’s just a twinge.”

Abby’s heart sank. “When I made you bring the tree in by yourself? I should have helped you. I’m an idiot. Sorry.”

“I think it was when I was cutting the tree. It’s not your fault.” Marcus put his hand on top of Abby’s squeezed it, but she knew he was trying to spare her. He’d recovered so well since he was stabbed she sometimes forgot how bad it had been, how close to losing him she’d come.

“Don’t hide these things from me. We promised each other, remember?”

“Yes. Sorry. It’s really not that bad, honestly.”

“I know what you Brits are like, though. Not bad means you’re about to die.”

Marcus chuckled. “True. Well, I promise I am being straightforward American when I say that.”

“Okay.” Abby ate a spoonful of the stew. It was warming and comforting. “This is lovely.”

“Thank you. Speaking of war wounds.” Marcus looked at her as he sipped his wine. “You seemed to walk a lot more freely today.”

“Yes, I had no pain!”

“That’s great.”

“You have to turn the corner some time, right?”

“We have turned the corner.”

“Not quite.” Abby looked down at her stew, stirred the carrots and potatoes around.

“We can’t wait for them to find him, Abby, before we let ourselves heal in here.” Marcus pointed to his head. He’d got right to the heart of what was troubling Abby, which was no surprise because it was on her mind a lot, and he knew that.

“I know. I just feel like, if they don’t find him, then maybe he’s not really dead. Maybe he’ll come back.” She’d said these words to Marcus so many times now, and she knew what he would say in return, but she still needed to hear it.

“He couldn’t have survived the fall. It’s impossible. He’s dead, Abby.”

“I know. I killed him,” she said in a quiet voice.

“No. You saved me. I owe my life to you, and I don’t just mean what you did in the cave, but what you’ve done every day since I met you.”

These were new words, things he hadn’t said to her before. She looked up at him. “We saved each other.”

“Yes.” He smiled at her tenderly. “I love you with all my heart.”

A tear dripped into Abby’s stew, and she wiped her hand across her face. “I love you too.”

“Good. Then that’s settled. Don’t cry into my stew, you’ll dilute it. There’s a very delicate balance of seasonings in that. One tear could change the entire dish!”

Abby laughed. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

They spent the rest of the meal talking about their walk that day, the things they’d seen. Abby felt better by the time they’d finished. These feelings had been constant in the first couple of weeks after the incident in the cave, especially with Marcus hovering between life and death. Her guilt, her fear, had been devastating. They came in waves now, like on the loch outside their cottage. She was mostly peaceful, and then some unseen wind would blow in and whip up a surge of emotion and she’d feel overwhelmed.

Marcus seemed more philosophical about what had happened, grateful to be alive, wanting to celebrate that rather than think too much about the past, but he hadn’t killed someone. He hadn’t watched a young man roll off a cliff to his death. It didn’t matter what Jackson had done. He hadn’t deserved to die. Abby knew it wasn’t her fault, none of it was her fault, but that knowledge didn’t stop the feelings. Not yet at any rate.

They cleared the dishes away and tidied up. Marcus went around the cottage and checked every door and window which was another thing Abby was making him do, although she suspected he wanted to do it for himself as well. He returned to the living room and added more logs to the fire before joining Abby on the sofa.

“It’s Christmas Eve, babe,” he said, and he clinked his glass against hers.

“Babe?” Abby laughed. “What on earth?”

“It’s a lyric, to a popular song.”

“Oh! Fairytale of New York, yes. I wouldn’t have thought you knew that.

“Why not? It’s a classic.”

“I know, but I thought you were a Mozart or Haydn man, Wagner at a push.”

Marcus looked surprised that she’d remembered that. “I like the music I grew up with. It’s the modern stuff I have no time for.”

“You are always surprising me.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Marcus took another sip of his drink. His cheeks were pink with warmth from the fire and the alcohol. “Do you have any Christmas Eve traditions?”

“No. Christmas was haphazard when I was growing up. We’d often spend it in soup kitchens, feeding the homeless.”

“Really?”

“Yes. My parents were hippies, I think I told you that. They didn’t believe in Christmas as a general rule. My ex was the one who really introduced me to the concept.”

“In Scotland we celebrate Hogmanay more than Christmas.”

“That’s New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes. Christmas is about children, really.”

“You don’t have to have children to enjoy it.”

“I know.”

“Did you ever want children, with Caroline?” The question was out before Abby really thought about what she was saying. She regretted it, because it was personal and something they’d never talked about before, and he was bound to ask her the same, and what would she say? The truth she supposed, no matter how painful it was to admit.

“Erm. At the start no, I was too focused on my career. Then when I suppose it might have been the right time we weren’t in a good place in our relationship, so it was never a question. And my condition... well I couldn’t contemplate the mess.”

“I see. Yes, of course, that’s understandable.” Abby waited for the inevitable.

“What about you?”

“My husband didn’t want them.” There, it was out, easier in the end than she’d thought it would be.

“Did you?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Abby.”

“Not always. He had a vasectomy when we were both quite young.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked exactly how she’d thought he would look if he’d ever asked her this. Perplexed, and maybe disappointed. In her ex or in her for staying with him? It had been out of her control, not her fault, taken care of before she even knew about it.

“I was young, and in love with him,” she said by way of explanation.

Marcus nodded, took a large swig of his wine, almost emptying the glass in one go. “Would you want a child now?”

His question was so unexpected Abby didn’t know what to say. She’d got so used to being childless she’d never thought there could be any other state to be.

“I don’t know. I’m not getting any younger.”

“You could though, still, if you wanted to?”

Wow this conversation had taken a turn. What was he suggesting? Abby didn’t know what to think. “I could, yes.” She looked at him closely, trying to decipher what he was thinking. “Do you want a child?”

“I don’t know. If you wanted one... I would.”

“It has to be what both people want, Marcus. Nothing else works. It’s eighteen years of commitment. It’s mess everywhere, all the time.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t think we’re too old?”

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much until now.”

“Maybe we should think about it some more.”

“Yes.”

They were silent for a while, sitting next to each other, watching the fire, each in their separate thoughts. She’d presumed he’d never want children, hadn’t really given it any thought if she was honest. Hadn’t seen them as a family. What would it be like having a baby, a child running around the house? How would Marcus cope? Would Abby be constantly running around cleaning up? When would she paint?

“That’s rather put a stop to the conversation,” said Marcus after a while.

“Yes.” Abby laughed. “I’m glad we brought it up. We should talk about these things.”

“I suppose, you know, nearly dying...it makes you think about what you’re leaving behind, your legacy.”

“I understand that, but children aren’t an extension of us. They’re their own people, and they’ll change our lives completely.”

“You’re right.” Marcus nodded at her, sucked on his lips.

“That’s not a no, it’s just a let’s really think about it.”

“I agree.”

“Okay. Pour me some more wine.”

Marcus filled Abby’s glass and emptied the rest of the bottle into his. They were quiet again.

“It’s like the elephant in the room now,” said Marcus, echoing Abby’s thoughts, because now that the subject had been brought up she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

“A noisy, messy elephant.”

“That looks like you.”

“Or you. He won’t use coasters,” Abby said, “or tidy up. He’ll draw on your beautiful white walls.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be permanently exhausted. We won’t be able to have sex anytime or anywhere we want it.”

“There are definitely downsides.” Marcus smiled.

Abby looked at Marcus. He didn’t seem to be thinking all that deeply about this. “How will you cope?”

“I’ve been thinking about going to Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, I did some research into it.”

“That’s... well that’s great, if that’s what you want. You don’t have to change for me. I love you the way you are.”

“I know that, I really do, and I appreciate it, but if this is something we decide to do, then I will do anything I can. The burden won’t fall on you, Abby, I promise.”

“It’s easy to say that.”

“We’ll share the duties, fifty-fifty.”

“You’ve just been elected Mayor. You have a full-time job in the prison. Be realistic, Marcus.”

He looked at her in a way she’d never seen before, with a carefree light in his eyes. “There’s more to life than working all the time. I could give up the prison, concentrate on my Foundation. I can work from home.”

“I thought you hadn’t thought about this.”

“I haven’t much. I just. I want to be happy, and I don’t know if the things that I thought made me happy before are what I want anymore.”

“You’ve had a big shock. It’s natural to question where you’re going in life, but it’s not a time to make big decisions.”

“Then when is?”

Abby didn’t know how to answer that. When was a good time to change your life? She hadn’t wanted to do it when she’d met Marcus, had resisted her heart for so long, and they’d still ended up together, and it had turned out wonderfully, give or take the odd near-death experience.

“This time next year...” said Marcus.

A baby in her arms. She could see Marcus’s dark head bent over it, pulling faces at it, making it laugh.

“You’re evil,” she said, and he grinned.

“Think about it.”

“When we get home.”

“Okay.”

Abby drank more of her wine, and then she decided to put all thoughts of a baby behind her, because otherwise they weren’t going to get through the rest of the night, never mind their holiday.

“There are no presents under the tree,” she said.

“Yours are hidden.”

“Where?”

“In my wardrobe. Do you want me to bring them down?”

“Yes, okay.”

He disappeared upstairs and came down a moment later with an armful of presents.

“What are all those?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He laid them under the tree then stood back and looked at Abby. “Where are mine?”

“You think you have presents?” Abby put on a confused face, as though she was surprised at his question.

“Well, at least one maybe.”

“Maybe I’m your present.”

“Then I’d very much enjoy unwrapping you.”

Abby laughed. “I might have something for you. I’ll be right back.” She picked up her car keys and went outside to the Land Rover Discovery they’d bought together while Marcus was still recovering in the hospital. It had been ridiculously expensive, and Abby’s contribution of a thousand pounds from the insurer hadn’t made a dent in the cost, but after everything they’d been through it had ceased to matter. She popped the boot and lifted the mat that covered the tool storage area to retrieve his presents from where she’d hidden them. As she walked back to the cottage something wet landed on her nose. She looked up, and tiny white flakes were dancing in the air.

“Marcus!” she shouted, and he came running out of the door.

“What? Are you okay?” he said breathlessly.

“It’s snowing!”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Is that all? It’s amazing.” She held out her hand to capture a flake. It melted in the warmth of her palm.

“I thought you were... Never mind. Yes, it’s beautiful.” He put his arm around her, and they stood for a moment watching the snowflakes fall from a moonlit sky.

“We might have a white Christmas after all,” said Abby, and then she shivered.

“We’ll see tomorrow. Let’s go inside.” Marcus ushered her into the cottage and Abby laid her two gifts next to his handful.

“There’s a mismatch here,” she said.

“It’s the thought that counts,” said Marcus, “and clearly I think more of you than you do of me.”

Abby batted his arm. “Quality over quantity.”

“If you say so.” He pulled her over to the fireplace. “It’s time for that other Christmas Eve tradition.”

“What’s that?”

“The bring Marcus to a shuddering orgasm in front of the fire tradition.”

“Oh! That one.”

“Yes. Are you up for it?”

“I could be persuaded.”

“Let me try,” he said, and he took her in his arms and kissed her.

\---

The following morning when Abby woke and stretched her arm out she encountered Marcus’s warm body, so he had stayed in bed like he’d promised. She turned over, curled up behind him and put her arm around him.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

“Morning.” Abby kissed his back. “Merry Christmas.”

He turned so he could look at her. “Merry Christmas.”

They kissed, wrapped in each other’s arms, and it soon turned hot. Abby pressed herself against Marcus, his cock a warm weight between them. It pulsed against her, and it was only a matter of making a small adjustment to her position so he could slide inside her. They both sighed.

“This is the right way to wake up,” whispered Marcus as they rocked against each other.

“I told you I was your Christmas present.”

“Best present ever.” He kissed her, and they took their time making love, unhurried, building slowly to a deep, satisfying climax.

“Time to see if Father Christmas has been,” Marcus said when they’d rested, and he leapt out of bed naked, grabbed his shorts and t-shirt and ran to the bathroom while Abby dragged herself more slowly from the bed. She was tired, and she could lie here all day long really. Maybe she could persuade him to that later. She picked up her pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and went to get ready in her own bathroom. 

When she got downstairs, Marcus was opening the blinds, letting the morning light in. “You got your wish,” he said, and beckoned her to him.

Snow was covering everything, making shapeless lumps out of the shrubs that were scattered along the banks of the loch. The hills on the other side of the loch were just visible against the grey-blue sky, snow-capped and majestic.

“It looks beautiful,” said Abby. “I bet there’s enough to build a snowman later.”

“If it’s the right snow,” said Marcus.

Abby looked at him incredulously. “The right snow! How can it be the wrong kind of snow?”

“If it’s too dry then it won’t compact properly. You need the right amount of moisture.”

Abby shook her head. “You constantly amaze me.”

Marcus shrugged. “I spent some winters in the Highlands as a child. Became something of an expert.”

“An expert in snow as a child.” She laughed. “Okay. I’m going to make us some tea and toast and then we can get to the gifts.”

She thought back to their conversation of the previous night while she waited for the kettle to boil. What kind of father would he be? He was endlessly knowledgeable, but was he too serious? Was he capable of being silly, spontaneous? He’d shown signs of it, more so lately. She imagined him being strict but fair, or would he just give in without much of a fight like he did with her? Would his son or daughter wrap him around their finger and tie him up in knots? Yes, probably. She smiled to herself as she poured the tea and buttered the toast.

\---

After breakfast they sat beside the fire to exchange their gifts.

“This first present is very important,” Marcus said as he retrieved a book-sized package from beneath the tree and handed it to Abby. “Probably the most important present I’ll ever give you.”

“Okay,” said Abby, and she looked at him to see if he was serious. His face was deadpan. Her heart rate picked up. What the hell had he got her? She felt the package. It was hard, and she was pretty sure it was a book. She opened the paper carefully to reveal the contents. “Oh my God,” she said, and she laughed as she uncovered a hardback book. “Crime and Punishment: The history of Penal Reform in the United Kingdom” by Marcus Kane.” She looked up at him. “You wrote this?”

“A long time ago. Look at the first page.”

Abby turned the page. There was an inscription in Marcus’s careful handwriting. “To Abby, who has reformed me.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. She turned the book over. There was a photo of a much younger Marcus on the back, with a stern expression and his usual short, neat hair. “Thank you,” she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him.

“I’ll be quizzing you on the contents at some point.”

“So I have to read it then?”

“Of course.”

Abby laughed again. “Okay, my turn.” She pulled out a long tube from beneath the tree. Marcus frowned when he looked at it, then he nodded.

“These have been all over the house lately,” he said, referring to the surprising number of prints Abby had already stuffed into tubes and posted to clients all over the world since her online gallery went live.

Marcus unrolled the tissue paper inside the tube, revealing the painting she’d made of him one morning in her cottage several months earlier.

“Ah!” he said. “Wow! I didn’t think you were ever going to let me see this.”

“It took a while to finish it.”

“It’s fantastic. Of course, you had a wonderful subject.”

“Your head never gets any smaller, does it?”

“No.” Marcus smiled at her. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll have to get it framed, put it up on the wall. It can go next to your vagina cave picture. What could be more perfect?”

Abby snorted with laugher. “It’s a good job no one ever visits us.”

“Yes,” said Marcus, and he laughed. He handed Abby two small presents, one thin and one square-shaped. “These two go together.”

The thin one contained an envelope and in that were two open tickets to the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester. “For that night out we never got around to,” Marcus said.

“Yes, I remember. This will be exciting! I would have got you tickets to the museum but it’s free.”

“I know. I looked it up.”

Abby nodded. “What’s this other one?” She turned the square package over in her hands.

“Open it and see.”

Abby ripped off the paper. It was two CDs. The Essential Mozart, and The Best of Haydn. “Are these for me or are they really for you?” she said as she examined the playlists.

“I thought you could familiarise yourself before we go.”

“I will listen to them while I’m reading about the history of penal reform. Should send me straight to sleep,” she said with a chuckle.

“Cheeky!” said Marcus.

“Seriously, I can’t wait to reform you penally.” She kissed him, placed her hand on his crotch, let her fingers graze the soft outline of his cock.

Marcus groaned. “Now I can never use that word again without thinking of this.”

“Good,” Abby sat back, smiling as Marcus’s hand drifted to the growing bulge in his shorts, rearranging himself to get more comfortable.

“Are you going to leave me like this?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Evil.”

Abby ignored his look of protest. “What else have you got me?”

“It’s your turn.”

“I know, but I only have one more, and you have two.”

“That’s true. Okay. This one isn’t really for you. Well it is, but... you’ll see.”

“I’m intrigued now.” Abby tore off the silver wrapping paper to reveal a sheaf of papers fastened in the corner with a treasury tag. She read the title on the front page. _Report into the death of John-Paul Murphy._ “What’s this?” she said, looking at Marcus with wide eyes.

“It’s from the Private Investigator. I asked him to look into Murphy’s dad’s death after you gave me the papers, and this arrived yesterday.”

Abby flicked through the pages but the words were blurred because of the tears in her eyes. “What does it say?”

“It will be up to the police and the Crown Prosecution Service to decide, but I think you’ll be pleased with the outcome. There is evidence to exonerate his father.”

Abby flung her arms around Marcus, peppered his face with kisses. “Oh, I love you so much! I knew you would come through for me.”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, so I didn’t say much about it until I got this.”

“We have to call them!”

“We will.”

“Today?”

“On Christmas Day?”

“What better time?”

“Okay. Later then. We’ll call them.”

“Thank you! I don’t think anything can top that now.”

Marcus smiled, and reached up to caress her face. “You have a big heart.”

“Speaking of hearts. Here’s your main present.” She gave Marcus a small box and he carefully removed the paper.

“Galaxy Watch?”

“It’s a smart watch, like your phone only you wear it all the time. It monitors your heart rate and other things, and it has GPS so I can easily find out where you are.”

Marcus looked at her closely, before smiling. “I love it.”

“Your other watch got broken in the, you know, and I thought well it would be useful to know you’re okay, if I ever needed to.” Abby was starting to feel stupid now about the gift. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she had given it to him it seemed needy. She was needy, though, she couldn’t help it. She worried about him all the time since the cave.

Marcus nodded. “I understand that. I think it’s a great idea. I’ll wear it always.”

“You don’t think it’s creepy or anything?”

“That you want to track me at all times? Not at all. It’s only natural you’d want to keep an eye on this.” He gestured to his body and Abby laughed.

“Well, yeah, I could surprise you at odd moments.”

“I’d like that; besides, you know I love technology.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Yes. Well, I didn’t think to fit a GPS tag into your main present, but I guess I could chip you or something.” He laughed as he gave her a box similar in size to the one she’d given him. It had a silver ribbon around it, and Abby pulled that off before opening the lid.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” She took out a necklace made of the same white gold as her earrings. The drop diamond on it was the same shape as well.

“You like it?”

“Of course.”

“Let me put it on you.”

Abby turned so Marcus could drape the necklace around her and fasten it. He turned her back so he could look at her, and adjusted it so it sat straight.

“It looks great against your Mickey Mouse t-shirt,” he said with a big smile.

Abby looked down, fingered the diamond, feeling its sharp edges. “I really love it.”

“I’m glad.”

They sat back against the sofa and surveyed the mess of paper and ribbon that surrounded them.

“I guess that’s it,” said Abby with a sigh.

“I have to make my special Christmas dinner yet. That’s a gift in itself.”

Abby snorted with laugher. “I never thought you’d make me laugh the way you do,” she said when she’d recovered.

“Hidden talents,” said Marcus, and he slipped his arm around her.

“Yes,” replied Abby, as she rested her head on his shoulder. She played with her necklace as she watched the fire flicker and the Christmas lights sparkle. They deserved this, after everything they’d been through. So close they’d come to losing each other, but they hadn’t. She had to remember that when the waves came and disturbed the peace she was trying to create.

\---

The days passed quickly, filled with walks and a boat trip that Marcus said was invigorating and Abby said was freezing and brought her to almost wish for death to come swiftly. They went to Glasgow, did some shopping, visited Marcus’s old neighbourhood. Now it was New Year’s Eve, or Hogmanay as Marcus called it, and they only had two days left of their holiday.

They’d spent most of the morning in bed, fooling around, reading, fooling around some more. Abby brought Marcus some tea and a plate of biscuits to renew their energy and he surprised her by eating them in bed. She took a photograph of him on her phone to record the moment for posterity.

Now they were standing on a piece of land next to the loch. It was covered in rushes and sedges and there were the stone remains of an old croft house.

“What do you think?” said Marcus.

“It’s a great view.”

“It’s an amazing view! Imagine a house on the edge of the loch, projecting out over the water. It would be like you’re floating.”

“It sounds lovely,” said Abby, not sure why Marcus had gone off into this flight of fancy. He’d dragged her out on this walk even though she’d been happy lying in bed. She was tired, and distracted, and it was making her grumpy.

“Can you picture it?” He turned to look at her, his eyes shining with enthusiasm, but about what?

“Picture what?”

“A house! Here!”

“Whose house?”

“Ours!”

Abby shook her head to try and clear her mind. “You want to build a house here?”

“Yes. A holiday home, somewhere we can come to when we want to escape.”

“Oh, I see.”

Marcus frowned at her. “I thought you might be more enthusiastic than this. Don’t you like the idea?”

Abby bit her lip as she contemplated him. She had to tell him, because if she didn’t, he was likely to sign them up for this before she could blink.

“It’s a nice idea...”

“I sense a but.”

“But there’s something I have to tell you.”

“You don’t want a house in Scotland?”

“It’s not that.” Abby took a deep breath. “I took a test today.”

“A test?” Marcus frowned. “What kind of test?”

“A pregnancy test.” She watched his face carefully. He stared at her disbelieving for a moment, and then his eyes widened, and his mouth opened as though he was going to say something, but no sound came out.

“It was positive,” said Abby. “I’m pregnant.”

Marcus took a step towards her, then stopped. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It checks for a hormone called the pregnancy hormone. It wouldn’t be there otherwise. There’s no doubt.”

A tentative smile spread across his face. “That’s... that’s wonderful.” His eyes bored into her as he tried to discern her thoughts. “Is that wonderful? How do you feel about it?”

“Happy, I think. Shocked, but happy.”

“Well, I’m happy too.” He held out his arms to her and Abby let him envelop her in his warmth.

“Are you?” she mumbled into his jacket.

“Yes, yes. God. It’s a lot to take in. I never thought...”

“I know. I didn’t either. It will mean a lot of change.”

“Yes.” He pulled away so he could look at her. He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “A baby.”

“A baby, at our age. What are we going to do?” Abby laughed.

“Get on with it.” Marcus laughed as well, but tears had formed in his eyes, and he brushed them away. “What made you take a test?”

“After we talked about children the other day I was thinking about it and I realised I hadn't had a period for ages, but it was such a crazy few weeks. I didn't notice, didn't think about it. Then I was sick a couple of times.”

“I thought that was my food!”

“It wasn’t your food. I thought it was stress you know, anxiety after everything, but when we were in Glasgow I got a test just to make sure. I thought it would set my mind at rest.” She laughed.

Marcus shook his head, still a look of disbelief on his face. “I wonder when it happened?”

“The test says I’m seven weeks along, so around the election I guess.”

“That night maybe?”

“The day after more likely. We didn’t have full sex that night.”

Marcus looked up at the sky while he thought back to that time. “Oh, yes! The robot sex.”

“Oh, God.” Abby put her hands to her face. “We can’t ever tell our child that’s how they were conceived.”

“We’ll say we found them under a holly bush.”

“Yes!” Abby laughed. “Poor kid.”

“At least I wasn’t dressed like Margaret Thatcher at the time.”

Abby chortled. “Thank heavens not!” She looked around the plot. “There’ll be no house, then.”

“Are you kidding? This would be perfect. I’ll need a bolthole when it all gets too much for me.”

“What?” Abby was incredulous. “When it all gets too much for you?”

“Relax! I’m kidding. It would be perfect for us, for our family holidays.”

“You bastard.” Abby swatted Marcus on the arm. “You can teach him about snow.”

“Or her.”

“Or her, yes.”

He took her in his arms again. “Imagine if she looks like you. I won’t stand a chance.”

“Can you cope with two girls?”

“I’m going to hope for a boy, then at least I’ll know what I’m doing, sort of.”

They looked at each other. “We haven’t a clue what we’re in for, have we?” Abby said with a pained smile.

“No, but we’re about to find out.”

They walked hand in hand to the edge of the loch, and Marcus picked up a flat stone, skimmed it along the water where it bounced five times then sank. “Shall I put an offer in then, on the plot?” he said as he skimmed another stone.

“Yes, why not.”

“Okay.” He pulled Abby towards him, stood behind her as they looked out across the water. The sun was slipping beneath the horizon, spreading a pink glow across the sky. The first stars were blinking into existence. “I didn’t think there was room in my heart for anyone, and then you came along, and now I’m already in love with someone else.” He put his hands on her belly, caressed her.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Marcus.”

“Am I? I don’t know. If I can change my ways, maybe.”

“You don’t need to change, just adapt.”

Marcus pressed a kiss to her hair. “I love you.”

“Will you marry me?” The words came out of nowhere, surprising the hell out of Abby. She couldn’t even blame alcohol, because she hadn’t drunk since she’d bought the test in Glasgow the day before. It was the setting, the loch, the sunset, the hormones that were coursing through her.

His lips stilled against her hair. “What?”

“Marry me. I want to make an honest man of the father of my child,” she said more confidently, because why not? Why not go the whole way, make their family complete?

“I... are you sure?”

“Don’t make me ask you again, Marcus.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Okay then.” She turned in his arms and looked into his deep brown eyes. “You make me happy,” she said. “You always have.”

Marcus didn’t speak at first, because tears were falling down his face. “I’ll always make you happy,” he said. “For the rest of our lives.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, another long journey over, but what a journey it has been! Thank you for being with me on it, and for all your comments and speculation. It has been the most fun I've ever had writing a story - the writing was hugely enjoyable, and the interaction with you the readers was so much fun. Thank you so much <3
> 
> Back in September April sent me a few photos, some of which have made it in here (including the one of Kane that became Abby's painting - that one pic is pretty much responsible for all of this). I was being bitten by ants when I viewed them (a long story) and they entertained me while I itched. It was just some fun but it sparked an idea and I wrote her a quick cheeky paragraph which became the first part of chapter one. Neither of us knew it would turn into a 150K fic that would be so much fun in every way. It was fun to research, it was fun to find clothes and cars and houses and beautiful places to visit. It was nice to be free of canon even though that was my favourite genre up until now. 
> 
> I have never written a mystery before and that was a challenge and a great experience. For the first time I had to have a timeline, a spreadsheet of what happened when, who did what, what relationship everyone had to each other. It has been interesting and I would definitely write one again, having learned a lot about what to do and what not to do.
> 
> Along the way I fell in love with the characters all over again like I do every fic, although these two were pretty special and I am going to miss them in my daily life. I know that they're happy, that they have their wonderful little family, and if I don't stop typing now I'm going to cry again.
> 
> So thank you to April for the inspiration and so much more <3 and thanks to all of you for the support and encouragement and for being bampots at times :D.
> 
> Until the next time... slàinte!


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